LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Daili? tTbouQbta 



^y the Same Author 

CLERICAL STUDIES 

Crown 8vo, 512 Pages, Cloth 
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DAILY THOUGHTS 



PRIESTS 



VERY REV. J; B; HOGAN, S.S., D.D. 

President of St. John's Seminary 
Brighton, Mass. 



BOSTON 

Marlier, Callanan & Company 

1899 



w 



%' 







4y035 
fmprfmatut^ 

^ Joannes Josephus, 

Archiep, Bostoniensis. 

"COPIES RLCEIVSD 







SECOND COPY, 



Copyright^ 1899, by Rev. J. B. Hogam. 






PREFACE 



OST priests, especially in missionary 
countries such as ours, are busy men. 
Interests of all kinds, religious and sec- 
ular, their own and those of their people, claim 
their attention almost every day, and at all hours 
of the day. Those who escape this constant 
pressure of business or of duty are still liable to 
be caught up and carried along by the rush of 
the world around them, and too often they yield 
to it without resistance. Some are so restless 
by temperament or by habit, that, even when 
entirely undisturbed from without, they find it 
difficult to settle down quietly to anything of a 
purely mental kind. How detrimental such con- 
ditions are to that "life with things unseen '' so 
necessary in the priesthood, need not be insisted 
upon. The Non in commotione Dominus of 
Scripture, and the In silentio et quiete proficit 
anima devota of the Imitation have become 



preface 



axioms of the spiritual life. No priest who con- 
sults his own experience will be tempted to 
question them, and this is why we find all those 
who have seriously at heart their own spiritual 
welfare coming back from time to time to the 
resolution of not denying to their poor souls, 
whatever may happen, the daily nutriment with- 
out which they cannot but languish and decline. 
What the most competent authorities agree in 
recommending, in one shape or another, as the 
normal sustenance of a priestly life, is the prac- 
tice of meditation and the habitual reading 
of devotional books, especially the " Lives of 
the Saints.'* These helps are guaranteed by 
their rules to members of religious orders, and a 
growing number of secular priests faithfully em- 
ploy them. Yet too many still permit them- 
selves to be deprived, of a part at least, of this 
daily allowance, nor can those who desire it most 
always succeed in getting it. Shall they, then, 
because they have failed to secure their regular 
repast, go all day long, or, it may be, several 
days, without nutriment ? Should they not 
rather, as men of business often do when com- 
pelled to miss their meals, try to sustain their 
strength by getting some nourishment when and 
where they can ? 



preface vii 

It is to supply a need of this kind that the 
following pages have been written. They con- 
sist of truths almost entirely borrowed from the 
Gospel, and viewed in their bearing on the spirit 
and duties of the priesthood. The text which 
introduces each subject is generally a saying of 
Our Lord himself, and the development of it is 
gathered from other recorded utterances of His, 
or from the inspired writings of the Apostles, or 
from the daily experience of life. A passage 
from the Fathers, the Imitation, or some other 
authorized source is generally given at the end, 
reflecting in human form the heavenly truth, and 
helping to impress it on the mind of the reader. 
As a substitute for morning meditation, when- 
ever passed over, one of these thoughts may be 
taken up at any free moment in the course of 
the day, or before retiring to rest at night. In 
its condensed form it will be found sufficient for 
one spiritual meal, but on condition that it be 
assimilated slowly. Quickly swallowed food is 
no better for the soul than for the body. 

Hence it is respectfully recommended to those 
who use this little volume for their spiritual 
benefit, to avoid all haste in considering the 
thought they have chosen to dwell upon. Our 
most sensitive photographic plates require time 



viii preface 

to reproduce objects that are feebly lighted ; and 
in most of us the spiritual apparatus is far from 
sensitive, and the truths set before us often 
show but dimly. In order, therefore, to be im- 
pressed by them, we have to take time, holding 
our minds and souls steadily and humbly before 
the divine truth, especially in its bearing on the 
priestly life, until it has pictured itself fully 
within us. The words of Our Blessed Lord, as 
set forth in the text, will often suffice by them- 
selves to produce the desired effect. When this 
happens, it will be best to go no further for the 
time ; the reflections which follow may be re- 
served for some other occasion. 

Outside the Beatitudes which come first, no 
order has been followed in the arrangement of 
these " Daily Thoughts.*' Neither have they 
been chosen because of their paramount impor- 
tance. As many more of equal value might 
have been presented in their place. These hap- 
pened to come first before the writer. If they 
prove acceptable to those to whom they are 
offered, others may follow. 

St. John's Seminary, 
Brighton, Mass. 



CONTENTS 



FACE 

Preface iii 

L The Beatitudes i 

II. The Poor in Spirit 5 

III. The Humble 10 

IV. The Meek 15 

V. The Mourners 20 

VI. The Merciful 26 

VII. The Pure of Heart 30 

VIII. Hungering after Justice ..... 34 

IX. The Peacemakers . 39 

X. The Persecuted 43 

XI. Lost Opportunities 47 

XII. The Worldly Spirit 50 

XIII. Openings 54 

XIV. The Voice of God 57 

XV. The Divine Fragrance of Christ . 62 

XVI. The Forgiving Spirit 65 

XVII. Asking Forgiveness 69 

XVIII. Belonging to Christ 74 

XIX. Renovation of Spirit 77 

XX. The Servant of Christ 80 

XXI. Pity 84 

XXII. How to Bear Honors 88 

XXIII. Self-Denial 91 

ix 



X Contents 



PAGE 



XXIV. Through Death to Life .... 95 

XXV. The Love of Children .... 99 

XX VL Christ The Comforter 103 

XXVn. The Priest a Comforter. ... 107 

XXVI I L The Religious Man in 

XXIX. Holiness and Helpfulness ... 114 

XXX. The Priest a Soldier 118 

XXXI. The Saving Power of the Priest 122 

XXXII. Young Priests 126 

XXXIII. Carrying the Cross ...... 130 

XXXIV. Piety 135 

XXXV. Preaching 139 

XXXVI. Purity of Intention 143 

XXXVII. The Barren Fig-Tree 147 

XXXVIII. Christ's Sufferings and Ours . 151 

XXXIX. Unselfishness 155 

XL. The Priest's Happiness .... 159 

XLI. Success 164 

XLII. A Good Name 167 

XLIII. Teaching by Example 172 

XLIV. Spiritual Sweetness 176 

XLV. Spiritual Influence 181 

XLVI. Scandal 184 

XLVII. Ideals, False and True .... 187 

XLVI II. The Unfaithful Shepherd ... 191 

XLIX. The Divine Guest 193 

L. Detachment 198 



THE BEATITUDES 



HHE Beatitudes, so named because those who 
possess them are pronounced by our Lord 
_ '^ blessed ^^ (beati)^ designate certain con- 

ditions of soul and life, a tone and a spirit little 
thought of before He came, but which He declares 
peculiarly suited to His kingdom. This kingdom 
has only its beginning on earth ; it finds its consum- 
mation in heaven, and the Beatitudes fit the soul in 
which they dwell for both stages. Those who are 
endowed with these gifts, Christ promises to wel- 
come to His kingdom on earth, and to crown in His 
heavenly kingdom. 

The Beatitudes, then, are certain special forms 
of virtue, of little value in the eyes of the outside 
world, if believed in at all, but strongly characteris- 
tic of the followers of Christ. They are, however, 
far from being the only distinctive features of the 
Christian. There is much in the sequel of the 
Sermon on the Mount and in the rest of the Gos- 
pel to which they bear no visible reference ; nor is 
it easy to see why they were singled out in prefer- 
ence to so many others and thus put together, 



H)afli5 UbouoDts 



unless it be that the lack of recognition or reward 
with which they are met in the world at large, 
and which is peculiar to them, led our Lord to 
offer them a special measure of approval and 
encouragement. 

This He does, first, by calling those who possess 
them '^ blessed,^'' that is, happy, for the Latin 
word, beati^ and the Greek /xaKapiot, mean nothing 
more ; and, next, by holding forth the reward which 
awaits them in His kingdom. Though presented 
under various forms, this reward is always the 
same : " the kingdom,'*^ " the land,'*^ mercy, consolation, 
satiety, a share in the divine Sonship, the vision 
of God, — all meaning one and the same thing, the 
possession of true happiness, begun here below and 
completed in life everlasting. 

It is remarkable that our Lord should strike the 
keynote of happiness at the very beginning of the 
Sermon on the Mount, which is the summary of 
His whole moral doctrine; and we are naturally 
led to ask why, in promulgating His law. He did not 
appeal rather to the higher motives of duty or of 
love. The answer given by many is that happiness 
is our true end, and therefore to be held forth as an 
inducement more than aught else. But in reality, 
happiness is the end of man only in this sense, that 
he is meant by his Creator to be happy. The su- 
preme law of his existence, his true end, is not hap- 
piness, but goodness, or moral perfection. No man 
is bound to be happy, unless in so far as happiness 



Ubc Beatttu&es 



follows on goodness ; but he is bound to be good, 
whatever may follow. 

Yet Christ does not appeal here to the broader and 
purer motive, but to what is relative and personal : 
the wish to be happy. And the reason is not far to 
seek. In human nature there are two mainsprings 
of action, the one interested, the other unselfish; 
the former proceeding from and leading back to 
one's own satisfaction, present or prospective, the 
latter pointing to somebody or something outside 
and beyond self. The unselfish one alone seems to 
have any intrinsic moral value; it is certainly be- 
yond comparison superior to the other ; yet they are 
both indestructible in our nature. No man is en- 
tirely unselfish or utterly selfish. No man, even if 
he would, can sustain himself in a life of virtue ex- 
clusively by the higher or unselfish motives, such as 
duty or love. But although the lower impulses 
ordinarily lead in a direction opposed to the higher, 
they sometimes suggest the same course of action. 
Thus a man may be led to the performance of cer- 
tain duties by the voice of conscience, and at the 
same time by the fear of public opinion. It is in 
this way that the prospect of rewards and punish- 
ments has its place and share in the Christian life. 
Right through the Gospel our Lord appealed to it, 
because He thoroughly understood human nature, 
and accurately measured its possibilities. 

He knew that personal motives are generally the 
strongest, the most easily awakened, the most persis- 



2)ails Ubougbts 



tent, and He consequently enlisted them on the side 
of virtue. To do so was especially necessary in deal- 
ing with the Jews, to whom the Prophets had always 
appealed in the name of their own interests. It was 
necessary for all peoples and for all times, because 
even in the practice of religion the mass of mankind 
will always be self-seeking. Yet with these lower 
motives, others of a higher kind, such as the sense 
of duty, gratitude, reverence, love, are sure to min- 
gle in some degree, and will thus lift men up to a 
life which, despite its weaker elements, will belong 
in its substance to virtue. True wisdom will teach 
them not to neglect the view of personal interest 
when it is needed to sustain them, but at the same 
time to make it more and more a subsidiary element 
in life, and rest their action chiefly on something 
beyond and above self. 



Sunt qui ita pauperes esse volunt ut nihil illis desit 
Su7it et alii mites, sed quandiu nihil dicitur vel agitur 
nisi eorum arbitrio; patebit vero quam longe sint a vera 
mansuetudine^ si oriatur occasio. Alios quoque lu- 
gentes video ; sed si de corde procederent illce lacrymcB^ 
non tarn facile solverentur in risum. Sunt alii miseri- 
cordes sed de his quce iis non pertinent Sunt et qui ut 
alios ad pacem reducer ent tarn solliciti sunt ut pacifici 
viderentur^ nisi quod eorum commotio, si forte quiquid 
contra eos dictum aut factum fuerit, tardius universis 
difficiliusque poterit sedari. 

S. Bernard, Serm» 4, de Adventu. 



Ube ipoor in Spirit 




II 

THE POOR IN SPIRIT 

Beati pauperes spiritu, quoniam ipsorum es^ regnum 
ccelorum, 

" Blessed are the poor in spirit^ for theirs is the 
Kingdom of heaven^ — Matt. v. 3. 

I HO are ^' the poor in spirit^'' to whom Jesus 
promises His kingdom? A reference to 
any of the larger commentaries will show 
how variously these words have been understood, 
and all because of the very word " in spirit " which 
was seemingly added to remove ambiguity. 

Passing over most of these interpretations, we 
may remark that the Fathers have commonly un- 
derstood the words as meaning humility. '^ Ad- 
junxit spiritu^''^ says St. Jerome, " ut humilitaiem 
intelligeres, non petturiamy " Pauperes spiritu hum- 
iles et tiinentes Deum^^'^ says St. Augustine. And 
so also St. Ambrose, St. Gregory, St. Chrysostom. 
Some have taken them as meaning the spiritually 
poor who are conscious of their misery, the oppo- 
site of those satisfied with themselves, like the 
Pharisee praying in the temple, or the ''anger' of 



Bails Ubougbts 



the Apocalypse, Diets quia dives sum et locuple- 
tatus. But there seems to be no sufficient reason 
for abandoning the Hteral meaning of the terms. 
In the corresponding reproduction of Christ's dis- 
course by St. Luke (vi. 20), the perplexing word, 
spiritu^ is absent. ^''Blessed are ye poor ^^'' he says, 
adding (vi. 24) a corresponding threat against 
the rich, " Woe to you that are rich^ It is 
question, therefore, of true poverty or privation of 
earthly goods, either as a fact or as a disposition 
of the soul, that is, detachment from earthly posses- 
sions. 

To attach the notion of happiness to either was 
something entirely new to the Jewish people. All 
through the Old Testament, wealth is looked upon as 
a blessing, and to possess at least a competency was 
the ambition of the best. Poverty was looked down 
upon as a misfortune ; yet the poor should not be 
despised. They were better, if faithful to God, than 
the wicked even though wealthy. To crush them 
was a great sin; God was their protector, ever 
ready to listen to their appeals, and in His name 
the Prophets recommended them to the justice 
and the helpful compassion of His people. When 
the Messiah came He was to be their special de- 
fender. Judicabit pauper es populi et salvos faciei filios 
\ pauperu77i, . . Farcet pauperi et inopi, et afiimas 
I pauperum salvas faciet. Ex usuris et iniquitate redi- 
\ met animas eorum^ et honorabile nomen corum coram 
illo. (Ps. Ixxi.) Judicabit in justitia pauperes et 



Ube poor in Spirit 



arguet in cequitate pro mansuetis terrce, (Isaiah 
xi. 4.) 

The poor, therefore, had reason to rejoice at His 
coming, and would naturally be among the first to 
seek refuge in His Kingdom. And so they did, as 
we learn from the history of the early Church. In 
her bosom they found themselves quite at home. 
Christ Himself had chosen to be poor; those He 
loved most He found and left in poverty. He 
pointed to riches as an almost insuperable ob- 
stacle to salvation, Qtiam difficile qui pecuniam 
habe?it in regnum Dei ifitroibunf (Mark x., Luke 
xix.), and to the rich young man who begged to 
follow Him, He set, as a condition, the abandon- 
ment of his wealth : '^ If thou wilt be perfect^ go 
sell what thou hast and give to the poor^ and then 
co7ne and follow Afe,^^ Again and again St. Paul 
points to the evils of covetousness and to the perils 
of wealth. Nor are they difiicult to find. The 
pursuit of riches leads to practices unworthy, unfair, 
unjust. It hardens the heart. Money once got 
fosters pride. It leads to self-indulgence. It often 
destroys in the possessor the noblest ideals of life, 
weighs down his religious aspirations, and makes 
him utterly worldly. 

The teachings of Our Lord and of His apostles 
sank deeply into the mind of the Church and fash- 
ioned the conduct of countless Christian souls. The 
history of the Saints is a history of detachment, of 
indifference to wealth, of voluntary sacrifice of the 



8 2)aili? ZhorxQMs 

things of this world. The promise of Our Lord was 
literally fulfilled in the poor. Wherever His Gospel 
was accepted, they were henceforth lifted up in their 
own eyes and in the eyes of their fellow-men, rever- 
enced, envied, voluntarily served by the highest 
and the best. The great ones of this world knelt at 
their feet and did homage in their person to God 
made man, their common Saviour and brother. 

There are few things in which a priest is more 
commonly expected to be faithful to the teachings 
of Our Lord than in detachment from worldly pos- 
sessions. The greater the rush for money all 
around him, the more urgent is his duty to pro- 
claim aloud the great truth of the Gospel : '^ What 
availeth it a man to gain the whole world if he lose 
his own soul^^'' and to strengthen the lesson by his 
example. The priest known to have a hold on his 
money has little hold on the hearts of his people. 
Liberality, on the contrary, a readiness to give, 
draws them to him. And when it is seen that 
whatever comes to him is sure to make its way to 
some laudable end, nobody grudges him what he 
possesses, but, on the contrary, all rejoice to enlarge 
his means of action. In the interest of his own 
soul he has to keep himself from the entanglement 
of speculations and investments, especially of a 
hazardous kind, from the accumulation of money, 
except for definite religious purposes, from a too 
great eagerness to possess it even for the best ends, 



Ube poor in Spirit 9 

and from using questionable methods in acquiring 
it. All these things would fatally tend to make him 
unspiritual and unpriestly. 



Noli amare bona quoe possessa onerant^ amata m- 
quinant^ amissa cruciafit — S. Bernard. 



10 Bafli? Ubougbts 



III 

THE HUMBLE 

" Beati paupers spiritur 

" Blessed are the poor in spirit''' — Matt. v. 3. 



T is remarkable that the great majority of 
the Fathers should have understood these 
words, not of poverty, but of humility. 
The fact that humility is a fundamental Christian 
virtue may have had its share in inducing them to 
place it at the very beginning of the sermon on the 
Mount. Besides, poverty and humility have a close 
natural connection. The poor are expected to have 
a sense of their lowliness, and the humble in heart 
are truly poor in spirit, that is, free from attachment 
to wealth. 

Many are the definitions of humility to be found 
in theological and ascetical books, but it can scarce 
be said that they help much to understand that 
virtue. It may be that no definition is needed or 
even possible, the virtue in question being only a 
simple movement or attitude of the soul which, if 
not experienced in some degree, cannot be under- 
stood, and, if experienced, needs only to be pointed 



XTbe Ibumble ii 

out. Self-abasement is perhaps the word that de- 
scribes it best. 

Like the other virtues, its seat is not in the mind, 
but in the feeUngs and the will. The unfavorable 
judgment on one's self is a necessary prerequisite, 
but does not constitute the virtue. A lowly opinion 
of self may be forced on the proudest of men with- 
out making him humble. He is humble only when 
he freely accepts the consequences of his faults or 
of his shortcomings. ^'^ In ipso appetitu^^'' says St. 
Thomas (2.2, 6 1, 2), '' consistit humilitas essenfialitery 

Humility is a corrective and a curative or medi- 
cinal virtue. It is the remedy of pride, and like that 
great evil of our nature, it has its various forms and 
its various degrees. Thus pride leads men to think 
too much of themselves ; humility calls them back 
to a true sense of what they are. Pride blinds them 
to their defects ; humility opens their eyes to them. 
Pride makes men imperious, contemptuous, arro- 
gant ; humility makes them modest. Even pagans 
recognized that special form of humility, and recom- 
mended an unassuming manner, modesty of thought 
and of demeanor (Cicero, De Officiis), Pride causes 
the merits of others to be overlooked ; humility 
keeps the mind alive to them and gives full credit 
to those who possess them. Pride, with all its lofty 
airs, is mean enough to seek more consideration 
than it deserves. Humility is honest, and will no 
more have the good opinion of others than their 
money, beyond what it has a right to. 



12 H)aili? XTbougbts 

So far humility is only a matter of sincerity and 
proper feeling, a natural virtue. But, like all other 
moral dispositions, it may be turned to supernatural 
purposes, and, in fact, as described, it is already 
the condition, if not the foundation, of most of the 
Christian virtues. Spiritual writers show this in de- 
tail, and only a little reflection is needed to see the 
truth of the statement. 

Christian humility as we find it in the Saints goes 
much deeper. It strikes at the very root of pride 
and leads those in whom it flourishes to the cultiva- 
tion of feelings and practices extremely uncongenial 
to the natural man. 

The first is a hearty self-contempt ; not merely 
a modest opinion of themselves, or a feeling of hu- 
miliation arising from noticeable defects, but some- 
thing much stronger, — a keen perception of their 
nothingness before God ; an overwhelming sense of 
the least imperfections still clinging to them, with 
the result of blinding them equally to their own 
qualities and to the faults of others. St. Paul deems 
himself " the least of the apostles^ unworthy to he called 
an apostle r In his own eyes he is nothing : " nihil 
sumy And so the Saints in the course of Christian 
ages — St. Bernard, St. Philip Neri, St. Francis de 
Sales, St. Vincent de Paul, the Cur6 of Ars, — all 
speak most disparagingly of themselves and mean 
every word of it. 

The second feature of their humility was to treat 
themselves in accordance with this self-depreciating 



Ube Ibumble 13 



judgment. They instinctively chose the last place. 
Anything they considered good enough, and most 
things too good for them. In the matter of food, 
clothing, accommodation, and the like, they took 
what was least desirable, and left what was best to 
others, as being high above them. They grudged 
themselves what was most necessary, and treated 
themselves in everything as being of little or no 
account. If anything went wrong, instead of allow- 
ing the blame of it to settle on others, they were 
ever ready to take it on themselves, and to apologize 
as if the fault were entirely theirs. 

Lastly, their ambition was to be as little thought 
of by others as by themselves, to be treated by 
others as they were wont to treat themselves. They 
had an instinctive objection to marks of respect, 
declining all honors if unnecessary, considering 
them as arising from a mistake and anxious to 
impress upon all how little they deserved them. 
Admiration and praise were positively painful to 
them. 

These are the heights to which the Saints raised 
themselves. How far above the reach, or even the 
aspirations of ordinary Christians, — and even of 
ordinary priests 1 We should at least look up rev- 
erently to them, humble ourselves for being so devoid 
of humility, and pray that we may not become entire 
strangers to so necessary a virtue. If its higher 
degrees are beyond us, at least the lower degrees, as 
described above, are attainable, and we shall have 



14 H)ailp TLbouQbts 

done much for ourselves and for our work if v/e 
make them ours. 

^^Deus superbis resistit^ humilibus aiUe^n dat gratiam.^^ 



" The humble man God protecteth and delivereth ; 
the humble He loveth and consoleth ; to the humble He 
inclineth HimrSelf; on the humble He bestoweth boun- 
teous grace y and after he hath been brought low, raiseth 
him up unto glory. The humble man in the midst of 
reproaches remaineth in great peace, for his dependence 
is on God and not on the world. 

" Never think that thou hast made any progress 
until thou feel that thou art inferior to allP — Imit. 

II, 2, 2. 



Ube /iDeeft is 




IV 

THE MEEK 

Beati mites, quoniam ipsi possidebunt terram, 
" Blessed are the meek, for they shall possess the 
land.^^ — Matt. v. 5. 

J HO are the meek? 
They are the gentle, the mild, the sweetly 
patient ; they are those little concerned to 
defend themselves against ill treatment, but relying 
rather on God^s providence to protect and vindicate 
them. Mites sunt, says St. Augustine, qui cedunt 
improbitatibus et non resistunt malo, sed vincunt in 
bono malum. Meekness is the natural fruit of de- 
tachment and of humility. What inflames men to 
anger and prompts them to revenge? The sense 
of being hurt in their pride or in their interests. 
Take away their concern for both, and all irritation 
and vindictiveness subsides. Meekness, gentleness, 
is also the outcome of that charity described by St. 
Paul : Charitas patiens est, benigna est, non irritatur, 
non cogitat malum. Omnia suffert, etc, (i. Cor. xiii.). 
Meekness is the corrective of anger. Anger, like 



16 Bails XTbougbts 

all the other passions natural to man, is good in 
itself and evil only when excessive (S. Tho. 2, 2, 
9, 158). But it overflows easily, and needs constant 
watchfulness to be kept within bounds, and this is 
precisely the function of meekness. Meekness, 
therefore, is not mere apathy, or a timidity that 
paralyzes action ; neither is it mere softness or lack 
of spirit. These dispositions, though real faults, 
may produce not unlike effects ; they may facilitate 
the practice of the virtue, but they are no substitute 
for it, no constituent part of it. Meekness is most 
needed by men of strong impulses, and its presence 
in them is a sign, not of weakness but of strength. 
It was one of the greatest and most difficult con- 
quests of the Saints, a virtue harder to practise than 
the greatest austerities. 

To hold in check all impatience, all wrath, all 
resentment ; to stand disarmed, as it were, in pres- 
ence of injustice and violence, is one of the most 
characteristic features of the Christian spirit. There 
are few things that our Lord inculcated more forcibly 
or exhibited more strikingly in His own person. He 
came to establish the kingdom of God on earth, not 
by violent conquest, but by gentle persuasion. 
" Come and listen to me^^ He said, ^^ for I am meek 
a7td humble of hearth He never employed his mirac- 
ulous power to protect Himself. When in danger, 
He yielded and withdrew up to the time divinely 
appointed for His passion and death. And during 
that terrible ordeal He bore all unresistingly, silently. 



Ube /IDeeft 17 



As the prophet had foretold : " He was led as a 
sheep to the slaughter^ and as a lamb before the shearer 
He opened not His mouths Thus it was that He 
himself practised what He had so often taught his 
disciples. In that extreme form by which he was 
wont to emphasize His teachings, He had told his 
followers (Matt. v. 39, 42) to yield to injustice and 
not to resist evil, to love those that hated them, to 
pray for those that did them wrong. When He 
sent forth His apostles for the first time it was 
like sheep in the midst of wolves, and when on 
their return they spoke of bringing down fire from 
heaven on the inhospitable Samaritan town, His 
answer was : " P^ k7iow not of what Spirit ye areP 
Again we may remark how often similar recom- 
mendations occur in the writings of St. Paul. Non 
vosmetipsos defendentes, sed date locum irae, . . . De- 
ponite iram^ indignationem . . . omnis amaritudo et ira 
tollatur a vobis. Noli vinci a malo sed vince in bono 
malum. By these and similar lessons and examples 
this new and heavenly virtue was planted in earthly 
soil. And as it grew and spread, its mysterious 
power asserted itself more and more. It is by sub- 
missiveness and pliancy, by yielding, by enduring 
v/ithout resistance, that the Christians won their way 
in the world, and finally won the world to them. 
It is by teaching gentleness, meekness, courtesy, 
that the Church toned down the pride of the Roman 
and the rough violence of the barbarian, and created 
the Knight of the Middle Ages, no less conspicuous 



18 H)ailB Ubougbts 

for his tender regard for what was weak than for 
his fearless bravery. 

Gentleness is a special characteristic of the priest. 
St. Paul, himself a striking model of the virtue, 
points it out as a distinctive sign of fitness for the 
ministry. " Thou^ O man of God^^^ he writes to 
Timothy, '' pursue piety ^ charity^ patience^ mildness ^'^ 
" The servant of God must not wrangle^ but be mild 
towards all men^ with modesty admonishing them that 
resist the truths And in his direction to Titus re- 
garding the choice of priests and bishops, he tells 
him to select men of blameless life, neither proud, 
nor hot-tempered, nor violent; non superbum^ non 
iracundum^ non percussore7n. 

This is the tradition of Christian ages all over 
the Church. Wherever we meet a saint, however 
strict he may be with himself, he is kind, forbear- 
ing, gentle with others. His zeal for the glory of 
God is always tempered with pity for the sinner. 
And so should it be with every priest ; for what is 
he, after all, among his fellow men but the represen- 
tative of one who, when He came among men, was 
the very embodiment of gentleness and mercy ? Ap- 
paruit benignitas et humanitas salvatoris nostri Dei, 
Alas! how often this so-called zeal has only suc- 
ceeded in closing the hearts of men against priest 
and Church, and led them to a total neglect of the 
practices of religion, if not to final impenitence. 



Ube /Bieeft i9 



" O ye pastors^ p2it away from you all narrowness of 
heart Enlarge^ enlarge your compassion. You know 
nothing if you know merely how to coinmand^ to re- 
prove^ to correct^ to expound the letter of the law. Be 
fathers^ — yet that is not enough ; be mothers,''^ — Fe- 

NELON. 



20 Bails xrbougbts 



THE MOURNERS 

Beati qui lugent quoniam ipsi consolabuntur. 
^'Blessed are they that mourn^ for they shall be 
comforted" — Matt. v. 5. 



HE sad and sorrowing, the suffering, the 
poor, the little ones, oppressed and bur- 
dened, are all alike. They are all weak, 
helpless, neglected, and despised by the world. 
They all need to be sustained and comforted. The 
Messiah was expected to be the bearer of that bless- 
ing to them and to the whole Jewish people trod- 
den under foot by the Romans. ''Be co7nforted^ 
be comforted, O my people, saith the Lord" " The 
Lord hath anointed me. He hath sent me to preach 
to the weak, to heal the contrite of heart (the broken- 
hearted), to preach a release to the captives, to com- 
fort all that mourn" (Isaiah xl. i ; Ixi. i, 2). This 
was the expectation of devout souls at the coming 
of Christ, as we may gather from the words of the 
Benedictus and of the Magnificat, as well as from 
what the Evangelist tells us of the aged Simeon, 
that he was " waiting for the consolation of Israel" 



Zbc /IDoutners 21 

This promised comfort is nothing else than the king- 
dom itself, to be procured only initially here below, 
but as a foretaste of its full enjoym.ent in heaven. 
The burden of sorrow and suffering can never be en- 
tirely removed from the human race, but it may be 
indefinitely lightened. All modern progress tends 
in that direction. There is now less of poverty, 
of sickness, of great hardship ; less of injustice and 
cruelty between man and man. Life in the average 
is longer ; for the great majority it is broader and 
more enjoyable. It has been lifted up and placed 
on a higher plane. Human sympathy has been im- 
measurably expanded, and has relieved in the same 
proportion the weight of human affliction and sad- 
ness. Now, this has been in a great measure the 
work of the Gospel, the result of the coming of 
Christ, and a partial accomplishmxent of his promise. 
Yet how much still remains to be borne, and only 
the harder to bear because of the growing refine- 
ment of men's sensibilities, and the more striking 
contrast of the hardships of the few with the 
comparative ease and enjoyment of the many. 
But here again Christ comes and administers a 
manner and a measure of comfort of which he alone 
has the secret. Pagan and Jewish philosophy had 
often dealt with the problem of suffering, and could 
see in it little more than a punishment dealt out by 
the Divine justice. The stoics took a different view. 
They endeavored to persuade themselves and to per- 
suade others that suffering was not an evil, — an 



22 Bails XTbougbts 

undertaking in which they generally failed ; or that 
it need never be excessive, since man can always 
escape from it by self-inflicted death, in which they 
succeeded but too well. One must read Seneca's 
^' Consolations '' to realize how utterly powerless an- 
cient philosophy was to administer comfort to the 
afflicted ; nor are modern philosophers much more 
happy in their efforts. They tell us indeed, and 
truly, that suffering and sorrow are not without their 
advantages ; that they sober down the thoughtless 
exuberance of life, and bring back the soul to a truer 
sense of things ; that by them, better than by any 
other discipline, are some of man's best qualities 
developed, — strength, endurance, compassion, help- 
fulness ; that something of sadness accompanies 
what is highest in the human soul, — great thoughts, 
deep feelings, generous resolves; that the noblest 
and most loving among men are those who suffer 
most. All this is true; and as a speculation it 
may be beautiful, and even beneficial to those who 
love to look into the depths of things. But how 
little genuine, abiding consolation it brings to those 
who have to endure any great affliction 1 The 
chosen people fared better. Enlightened from 
above, they learned to see, hidden under natural 
agencies, the hand of God punishing them for their 
sins, individual or national, and thereby mercifully 
compelling them to return to the path of duty. 
The truly religious among them bowed humbly to 
the Supreme Will, and bore submissively the calam- 



XTbe /IDournets 23 

ities which befell them, as we see so beautifully 
exemplified in the Old Testament saints, — Job, 
Tobias, David, and many others. 

True comfort, however, came only with Christ. 
It came with the sympathy — genuine, helpful, uni- 
versal — which He taught His children to cultivate 
towards every form of human suffering, and which 
not only has lightened the sorrows of humanity in 
an incalculable degree through Christian ages, but 
has so embedded itself in modern civilization, that 
even where faith has disappeared, active and large- 
hearted philanthropy will remain. 

Solace came directly and abimdantly from the 
teachings of Our Lord regarding the purifying power 
of suifering, whether voluntarily assumed or humbly 
submitted to ; the immense and endless reward 
beside which all earthly trials dwindle into insig- 
nificance ; the assurance, finally, that God is a father, 
ever near to the sufferer, even when he is seemingly 
forgotten, and so lovingly watchful over him that 
the very hairs of his head are counted. 

Last of all but not least, consolation flows abun- 
dantly from the sufferings of Christ Himself endured 
for the sake of those who suffer. All the comfort 
and peace that have come dow^n from the cross of 
Christ into the hearts of His suffering children for 
the last eighteen hundred years and continue to fill 
them each day can neither be known nor imagined. 
In these and other ways we have even in the 
present the realization of the promise of Christ. 



24 H)ail^ UbowQhtB 

Beati qui lugent^ quoniam ipsi consolabuntur. Nor 
has it stopped short at the mere assuagement of 
sorrow or pain. In the highest order of Christian 
Hfe it has become perfect contentment, positive joy, 
— the joy of the apostles that they were deemed 
worthy to suffer for Christ (Acts v. 41), the joy of 
St. Paul in the midst of tribulations (11 Cor. 7, 4), 
the joy of the martyrs, of all the saints v/ho found 
the secret of positive happiness in the very midst of 
suffering. Much of what Christ has thus promised 
and gives to His suffering children reaches them 
through the ministry of the priest. The priest is the 
great comforter of his fellow-men. In the hour of 
sorrow they readily listen to him. He leads them to 
take a reasonable, hopeful view of things. He sug- 
gests means of meeting difficulties. He is actively 
and generously helpful when he is able, and, what 
is often most welcome of all, he gives genuine sym- 
pathy. Finally he lifts up the thoughts of the suf- 
ferer from earth to heaven, recalls the consoling 
truths of the faith, and points to the eternal reward. 
O how full of faith, of generous compassion, of 
tender love, must the heart of the priest be to fill 
such an office 1 



When I sink down in gloom or rear, 

Hope blighted and delay'd, 
Thy whisper. Lord, my heart shall cheer, 

' 'Tis I ; be not afraid.' 



Ube /iDourners 



" Or startled at some sudden blow 
If fretful thoughts I feel ; 
^ Fear not, it is but I,' shall flow 
As balm my wound to heal. 

" And O ! when judgment's trumpet clear 
Awakes me from the grave, 
Still in its echo may I hear, 

* 'Tis Christ; He comes to save." 

— Card. Newman, 



26 H)ailp XTbougbts 




VI 

THE MERCIFUL 

^^Beati misericordes quoniam ipsi misericordiam con- 
sequenturr 

'^Blessed are the merciful for they shall obtain 
mercyT — Matt. v. 7. 

ERCY, — compassion, — pity, — tender sym- 
pathy for the sorrowing and the suffering is 
one of the most conspicuous and distinctive 
features of the Ufe which Christ came to estabhsh 
on earth. He came to soften and expand the hearts 
of men narrowed and dried up by selfishness. He 
came to teach them to Uve not in themselves only, but 
to share the joys and the sorrows of others. Much 
of His teaching, as recorded in the Gospel, was in 
that direction, and the strongest motives were set 
forth to enforce the lesson. In the pictures He drew 
of the last judgment He seemed to make all depend 
on faithfulness to it : " Come ye blessed of my Father^ 
possess you the kingdom prepared for you. For I was 
hungry and you gave me to eat ; I was thirsty and you 
gave 7ne to driiik ; I was a stranger a7id you took me 
in ; naked and you covered me^ sick and you visited 



trbe /IDerciful 27 

^^." Only such will Christ recognize as his fol- 
lowers, only such will He accept from now as His 
representatives among men. If compassion is an 
essential quality in the ordinary Christian ; if there 
is no room in the new kingdom for the hard hearted 
and selfish, how much less can its honors and dig- 
nities be bestowed upon them I The priest is chosen 
to be the refuge and stay of all who suffer. Of him 
they should be able to say what St. Paul writes of 
Our Lord (Heb. iv. 15): ^'We have not a high 
priest who cannot have compassion on our infirmities^ 
but one tempted in all things like as we areT 

In the present age, more, if possible, than in any 
other, the priest has to be alive to the needs of his 
fellow-men. First, because no quality is more uni- 
versally valued. The practices of prayer, of humility, 
of self-denial may bring one nearer to God ; but the 
world fails to appreciate these virtues, and the faith- 
ful themselves are little moved by them, if unac- 
companied by others more human. But the kind, 
compassionate, helpful man wins the regard of all. 

Next, pity for the needy and suffering is a virtue 
widely cultivated to-day, even by those who profess 
no religious faith. This unquestionably beautiful 
feature of the age is doubtless an afterglow of the 
Gospel where its direct radiance has been lost. But 
since the world assumes, and is allowed, the merit of 
it, the representative of the nobler form of charity 
should not permit merely philanthropic works (to 
which besides he ought not to remain a stranger), 



28 Bails tlbougbts 

to win a higher place in popular estimation than 
those done under the inspiration of the Gospel. 
Compassion in the ordinary man is too often either 
narrow, or short-lived, or merely sentimental. Com- 
passion in a priest should be the opposite of all that. 
Broad, first of all, and far-reaching. There are 
many who are moved only by poverty or by physical 
suffering in their fellow-men. For those whom 
anguish of soul, humiliation, disappointment, and the 
like have touched, they have little sympathy ; and 
what they bestow upon the others too often they are 
ready to withdraw if they can persuade themselves 
that those who claim their pity are unhappy through 
their own fault. Not so the priest who has learned 
his lesson from Christ. Like his Master he extends 
his mercy to all, to the unworthy as well as to the 
worthy ; to sinners as well as to the just. He is 
sensible to every form of human suffering, alive to 
every need, ready to respond so far as he can to 
every call. 

Again, worldly compassion is often ephemeral, 
short-lived. It prompts to generous deeds, but it soon 
turns away from the objects that excited them. The 
habitual sight of privation, suffering, or sorrow is so 
repugnant to the natural man, that he instinctively 
strives to forget it. But compassion born of love 
clings to its object and borrows strength from the 
unceasing demand that is made upon it. The com- 
passion of the true priest is, like that of his Master, 
inexhaustible, never tired of helping, of giving. The 



tlbe /IDerciful 29 



bed-ridden patient is faithfully visited ; the solicitor, 
though irrecoverably helpless, continues to receive 
assistance; the ever-relapsing sinner is welcomed 
and encouraged. Ingratitude stays the course of or- 
dinary pity ; but the pity of the priest, proceeding 
from a higher source, flows on unceasingly. While 
keenly alive to the grateful feelings which his benefi- 
cence awakens, he seeks not in them his reward, and 
when they fail, the higher motive still sustains him. 
Lastly, true priestly compassion is effective, that 
is, actively and practically helpful. There is a pity 
v/hich is all in words. True, sometimes words ex- 
pressive of genuine sympathy and coming from the 
heart are the most acceptable — it may be the only 
acceptable — form of pity. But if only sympathy is 
offered when help is needed, it is worthless. 



*^ He that hath the substance of this world and shall 
see his brother in need^ and shall close his heart agaifut 
him, how doth the charity of God abide i7t him ? My 
little children, let us not lo^e in word nor in tongue^ 
but in deed and in truth,^'' — i John iii. 17. 

The same lesson is taught us by St. James (ii. 15). 
'''If a brother or sister be naked and want daily f 00 d^ 
and one of you say to them : Go in peace ; be you 
warmed and filled, yet give not those that are necessary 
for the body, what shall it profit V^ Pity of this 
kind is hollow, unreal. Genuine compassion is al- 
ways helpful. It knows no rest until the need is 
met, the suffering allayed. 



30 2)atli? Ubougbts 



VII 

THE PURE OF HEART 

^^Beati mimdo corde quoniam ipsi Deum videbjinty 
''Blessed are the clean of hearty for they shall see 
G^^^." — Matt.v. 8. 



SHE ordering of the outer man is the first 
stage of the moral life. The child, the sav- 
age, the morally undeveloped think of little 
beyond external conformity to a given standard of 
conduct. Human legislation is powerless to go fur- 
ther ; and although the Old Law embraced in some 
way the w^hole man, it must be confessed that it con- 
cerned itself chiefly with externals. As a conse- 
quence, in the Jewish conception of duty, there was 
a prevailing character of outwardness, which, joined 
to an almost total disregard of inward culture, cul- 
minated among the Pharisees in that ostentatious, 
hollow form of religion to which posterity has given 
their name. 

Against such a conception of virtue the Gospel 
was a universal protest. In the strongest terms Our 
Lord denounced the life of the Pharisees as all 
appearance and outward show, with nothing behind 



XTbe pure of Ibeart 3i 

it but what was worthless (Luke xi. 42 et seq?). He 
explained repeatedly, as in Matt, xv., the comparative 
insignificance of what was external, and proclaimed 
that all that was really good or evil proceeds from . 
the heart. 

The heart, then, being the true«seat of religion and 
moral goodness, the main concern of the follower of 
Christ is to improve and embellish it. This implies 
a twofold process ; first, that of planting and culti- 
vating in it the seeds of the moral virtues ; and 
second, that of weeding out whatever might impede 
their growth. This second process it is which consti- 
tutes the cleansing of the heart, and its result is that 
purity placed by Our Lord among the Beatitudes. 

There are numberless degrees of purity of heart, 
as there are of defilement, yet they may be reduced 
to a few general categories. The humblest consists 
in exemption from mortal sin. In the state of sin 
there are depths deeper and deeper, and to rise 
from the lower to the higher is praiseworthy and 
hopeful. But however much of evil the soul may 
have shaken off, so long as she still clings to any 
form of it, or has not been reconciled to God and 
received the pledge of reconciliation in sanctifying 
grace, she cannot in any sense be spoken of as pure. 
She becomes substantially so by the reawakening of 
the divine life within her. Still there may remain 
the defilement of unforgiven, because unrepented, 
venial sin. But even when that has disappeared, 
other things may continue to tarnish her beauty, in 



32 Bails ZbovLQbtB 

particular those earthly inclinations which, though 
not positively sinful, yet often lead to sin, and any- 
how occupy the heart in a manner detrimental to the 
higher and nobler feelings which might otherwise 
fill it. To rid herself of those impediments, in so 
far as they are voluntary, is the next stage of puri- 
fication, a lengthened and tedious one, inasmuch as 
the ill-regulated affections of the heart are ever 
ready to break out in every direction, and can be 
kept within bounds only by constant watchfulness 
and unceasing effort. 

When the soul emerges triumphant from the fight ; 
when she has succeeded in detaching herself not only 
from what is forbidden, but from what is displeas- 
ing or less pleasing to God, from whatever might de- 
tract from the freedom and fullness of His service 
and love, then she has reached a high degree of 
purity. Yet one higher still may be thought of. It 
is that in which the ill-regulated impulses of nature 
almost entirely disappear, leaving the soul in a con- 
dition similar to that of the angels, or of little chil- 
dren, or of our first parents, as we picture them 
before the fall. That exemption from the corrupt 
instincts of ' our depraved nature, perfect in the 
humanity of Our Lord and in the Blessed Virgin, is 
to be found in various degrees in God's chosen ser- 
vants. With some it is a gift of early life, with 
others the reward of a protracted fight against self. 
But even where these unworthy impulses have prac- 
tically disappeared, it would be a mistake to believe, 



Zbc pure of Ibeart 33 

as some authorities would seem to say, that from 
such souls all affection has vanished save the love 
of God. The truth is that all the normal, natural 
affections remain ; the Christian virtues inferior to 
charity continue to play their part ; but they are all 
informed and regulated by the principle of love, 
and the nearer the soul approaches to God, the more 
love predominates as the animating principle of 
action. It is easy to understand how purity of heart 
thus cultivated, begets an especial fitness for the 
kingdom of God here below and in eternity. In 
one of his " Plain and Parochial Sermons '' Card. 
Newman has beautifully shown how only pure souls 
can enjoy the presence of God, so that holiness is, in 
the very nature of things, a necessary preparation 
for the happiness of heaven. Even to see Him, as 
He can be seen here below, behind the world of 
sense and in the depths of conscience, nothing fits a 
soul like being emptied of earthly things. Hence 
the distinctness and depth with which the Saints, 
even when possessing little human culture, see into 
the mysteries of the divine nature and the provi- 
dential guidance of the world. 



"^ on/y thy heart were rights then every created 
thing would be to thee a mirror of life a?td a book of 
holy teaching. There is no creature so little and so 
vile, that it showeth not forth the goodness of God^ 

" If there be joy in the world, truly the man of pure 
heart possesses it,''^ — Imit. ii. 4. 



34 Bailp XTbougbts 




VIII 

HUNGERING AFTER JUSTICE 

" Beati qui esuriuni et sitiunt justitiam quo7iia7n ipsi 
saturabuntur,'^^ 

^^ Blessed are they that hunger a7id thirst after 
justice^ for they shall have their flV^ — Matt. v. 6. 

USTICE has not in the Bible the narrow 
sense the word bears in modern usage. It 
means general rectitude and integrity of 
life, — moral goodness, complete in every direction. 
Thus understood, justice represents the supreme law 
of life. To strive for it, to realize it in a substantial 
measure, is the duty of all. To long for it in a 
higher degree, to hunger and thirst for its fullness 
and perfection is the condition of the best and 
noblest souls. That many such there were among 
the chosen people, cannot be doubted, — souls 
keenly alive to the holiness of God and to their ov n 
imperfections and unworthiness, saddened by th 
wickedness of the world, and sighing like Zachar} 
the father of St. John the Baptist, for the time wlici: 
sinners would be converted to God, and they them- 
selves might " serve Him without fear iit holiness 



IBunaerfna after Justice 35 

and justice before Him all their daysT — Luke i. 74. 
Such were the patriarchs and the prophets; such 
David and the other writers of the psalms; such 
Tobias, Judith, and numberless others whose names, 
unknowti to history, are recorded in the book of life. 
They craved for the reign of God in the world and 
in their own souls. 

The consummation of their wishes was to come 
with the Messiah. " Orieiur in diebus ejus justitia 
. . . suscipient monies pacem populo et colles justitiam^^'' 
as is said in the prophetic Psalm Ixxi. ^^Ecce in justitia 
regnabit rex^'' says Isaiah xxxii. i. He prays for the 
same (xlv. 8) " Rorate cceli desuper et nubes pluant 
Justum ; aperiaticr terra et germinet Salvatorem^ et jus- 
titia oriatur simul ; '' and Daniel points to the same 
feature as characteristic of the Messianic reign : 
" Adducatur justitia sempiternal 

The promised Saviour came at length, bringing 
with him that justice the Saints craved for. Not 
perfect righteousness, for that is to be found only in 
heaven, but virtue raised to a level never reached 
before, and diffused with the Christian faith all over 
the world. The immense moral change in the 
human race thus effected by the coming of Christ 
and by the abiding action of His Church is the 
accomplishment, incomplete here below, as it should 
be, yet invaluable, of the promise. But because of 
the incompleteness of the fulfillment, the hunger and 
thirst of perfect goodness continues to be felt in this 
life by all truly Christian souls. Around them they 



36 Bails UbowQhts 

see evil still prevail to a frightful extent, and in 
themselves they measure the distance which sepa- 
rates them from that perfect holiness to which they 
aspire. And while striving with all their might to 
improve this condition of things, they long for some- 
thing incomparably better, and they ever pray to 
God to use His power to that effect. " T/iy king- 
dom come; Thy will be do7ie o?i earth as it is i7i 
heaven^ The advancement of God's glory, the 
good of souls, their own spiritual progress, — these 
are their great objects in this world. To put it in 
other words : as the supreme wish of the sensual 
man is pleasure, that of the covetous man money, 
that of the ambitious man position and power, so 
the supreme desire of these chosen souls is justice, 
— the universal reign of God. And what they strive 
for and pray for comes, according to the Saviour's 
promise, already here below, but in God's own time, 
and measure, and w^ay. 

A craving for justice in the narrower and modern 
sense of the term is characteristic of our age. In 
the most civilized parts of the world, individuals and 
peoples have a stronger sense of their rights, a 
greater readiness to vindicate them, and the world at 
large is in more active sympathy with them and with 
ail those who suffer from oppression or wrong. In 
the ancient world it was so common to see the weak 
crushed by the strong, the poor despised by the 
wealthy, the simple overreached by the artful, and 



S^ixwQc^^^f attcr Justice 37 



the honest by the unscrupulous, that the fact seemed 
to belong in a way to the normal condition of things, 
and passed almost unnoticed. Nor have things 
much improved up to the present in countries un- 
fashioned by the Gospel, such as Turkey, Persia, 
Africa, and China. It is only where the reign of 
Christ has been established that we find the weak 
and helpless secure, v/omen and children sheltered 
by the strong arm of power, and by the still greater 
force of right universally acknowledged. Through 
Christian ages the Church was the protectress of 
the poor and the helpless, " t/te widow and the or- 
pha?i,''^ Under her action arose the public institu- 
tions and the public opinion which still protects them. 
Political justice, social justice, human rights, so 
much spoken of to-day, are only a further exten- 
sion of the principles sustained and inculcated by 
her through all ages. They may be exaggerated 
in our time ; they may be mixed up with elements 
of evil ; but in so far as legitimate, they are part of 
the promise of Christ, and the Church would be un- 
faithful to her mission if she did not recognize and 
vindicate them. 

The voice of the priest, who is her spokesman, 
should, when discretion permits, be raised for the 
right, never on any account for the wrong. No 
transient advantage, no personal interest should lead 
him in public or in private to sympathize with 
wrong-doers, social, economic, or political. It is to 
him that other men should look when they want to 



H)afli? XCiiV^^rots 



know what to think, to say, or to do. His sympa- 
thies are instinctively with the weak; yet if their 
claims are unjust he shows them no favor, for popu- 
larity with him always yields to principle. He is 
above parties, above individual or local interests, 
the representative of what is fair, equitable, just; 
and, for that very reason, he is respected and trusted 
by all. 



'^Qzii ad justitiam erudiunt multos^ quasi stellce in 
perpetiias cetcniitates,''^ — Dan. xii. 3. 



XTbe peacemafters 39 



IX 

THE PEACEMAKERS 

" Beati pacifici quoniamfilii Dei vocabunfur.''^ 
^^ Blessed are the peacemakers^ for they shall be called 
the children of GodJ^ — Matt. v. 9, 



EACE, like many other words, has in Scrip- 
ture a breadth and variety of meaning far 
beyond its modern acceptation. With us 
it signifies simply the absence of strife. In the 
Bible it came by degrees to signify also positive 
concord, friendship, security, happiness. In this 
last and broadest sense it is commonly used in 
the New Testament. It is also in that wide com- 
prehension that the Redeemer is promised to the 
world as the ^^ Prince of peace ^^ and that His reign 
is to be a reign of '' Justice and abundant peace" 
(Ps. Ixxi), that is of righteousness and happiness. 
Peace properly so called, harmony with others, is, 
of course, an element of that happiness, and Christ 
came to bring back to men that peace ; peace with 
God, that inestimable blessing so often referred to 
in the New Testament as the first fruits of the 



40 2)afli? UbouQbts 

Redemption, and peace among themselves by mu- 
tual forgiveness and mutual love. 

But Christ only laid the foundation of both ; the 
blessing itself must be the growth of ages and the 
work of all men of good will v;ho help to bring their 
fellow-men nearer to God and nearer to each other. 
Blessed indeed are they who share in any degree in 
a thing so welcome to God I Their place in the 
kingdom is assured to them, and this is the funda- 
mental meaning of the promise. 

But they receive furthermore a glorious title, that 
of sons of God, "vtot rov ©eoi)," ''^lu Dei^ And 
well may they be called by that name, — the name 
given to the angels in the Old Testament and even 
in the New, for their work is a heavenly one and 
worthy of the angels ; children of God too, because 
like unto God who is a God of peace and love ; 
children of God, because continuing the work of His 
divine Son on earth; children of God in the full 
sense of the expression, when they are admitted to 
the rest and joy of the everlasting Kingdom. 

The mission of peacemaker is in a true sense 
that of all Christians ; but it is pre-eminently that of 
the priest. The work of the redemption consisted 
in restoring peace between God and the world ; St. 
Paul describes it thus: (2 Cor. v. 19) " God was in 
Christ reconciling the world to Himself P What Christ 
did for all on the cross, the priest in His name and 
by His divine power does for each one of those who 
appeal to him ; through Him each one makes his 



Ube peacemakers 4i 

peace with God, and in him too God is present, re- 
concihngto Himself His unfaithful children. " Deus 
erat in eo mundu7n reconcilians sibiy Who can calcu- 
late the relief, the peace, the joy he imparts day- 
after day to sinful but repentant souls, when he 
sends them away with the assurance of their for-"^ 
giveness ? 

At the same time he is peacemaker between man 
and man. When the harmony of domestic life is 
disturbed in any degree among his people, he is 
one of the first to know of it. He watches the 
causes which, unchecked, will destroy the peace of 
the household, — the waywardness, or the obstinacy, 
or the selfishness, or the sensitiveness, or irritability 
of some member of the family, and by timely warn- 
ing and assiduous care he dispels the danger. If 
coldness has already set in, or, worse still, if bitter- 
ness of feeling or unkindness of action have 
estranged from one another those who should live 
closely united, the priest gently, discreetly, interposes, 
soothing the irritated feelings, removing the causes 
of misunderstanding, bringing back sunshine to the 
darkened home. If contentions and quarrels arise 
among his people, he is at once alive to the fact, and 
is never entirely at rest until he has allayed them. 
Immediate action may be unadvisable. He may 
have to wait long before his blessed object is 
achieved ; but he constantly bears it in mind, and 
avails himself of every incident and opening that 
may lead to it. Meanwhile his general influence, 



42 Bails Ubougbts 

reaching all his people, is of a sweet, soothing kind. 
By teaching them to repress pride and selfishness 
and to cultivate mutual forbearance and love, he is 
steadily weakening animosities and stopping many 
of them at their very birth. 

But to do all this well, he has to be himself a man 
of peace, affable, kind to all, on good terms with all. 
To bring people together, he must have a hold on 
both sides. He must be fair and friendly to all. 
Moderation, tact, discretion, are some of his most ne- 
cessary requisites. His views of abstract right must 
be largely tempered by charity and a knowledge of 
human nature. And if his action extends beyond 
his own people, if he comes forth as the champion of 
any great cause, his attitude has to be conciliatory, 
his utterances discreet, his action visibly inspired by 
the wish to benefit all right-minded men and entirely 
free from personal ends. 



" Keep thyself in peace^ and then shalt thou be able to 
bring others to peace. Thou knowest well how to ex- 
cuse thyself and glory over thine own deeds, but thou 
wilt not accept the excuses of others. If thou wish to 
be borne with, bear also with others ^ — Imit. ii. 3. 



Zbc persecute& ^3 



X 
THE PERSECUTED 

* ^ Beafi qui persecutionem patiuntur pj^opter jusiitia?7t, 
quoniam ipsorum est regnum coelorumr 

" Blessed are they that suffer persecution for justice' 
sake ^ for theirs is the kingdom of heaveii,^^ — Matt. v. 

lO. 



HERE is nothing for which Christ seems 
more concerned to prepare His Apostles 
than the active, violent opposition of the 
world. He warns them repeatedly that they must not 
expect to fare better than Himself ; that they will have 
to suffer all manner of ill treatment on His account ; 
that they will be taken up and dragged before unscru- 
pulous judges, cast into prison and tortured; that 
their very friends and relatives will turn against them 
and betray them ; finally that they will be an object of 
universal distrust and hatred among their fellow- 
men. 

Subsequent events abundantly verified the Sa- 
viour's prediction. The lives of the apostles, so far 
as we are acquainted with them, seem to have been 
full of suffering and trials, and all ultimately crovmed 



44 2)aib^ tTboucjbts 

by martyrdom. St. Paul, the apostle whom we know 
best, tells the Corinthians what he had to endure- 
" Of the Jews five times did I receive forty stripes^ save 
07ie, Thrice was I beate7i with rods^ once was I stoned ; 
thrice I suffered shipw^^eck ; a night and day I was in 
the depths of the sea. In joicr?ieying often^ i7i perils 
of waters^ in perils of robbers^ in perils from my own 
nation^ in perils from the Gentiles^ ifi perils in the city^ 
in perils in the wilde7'7iess^ i7i perils in the sea, i7t perils 
from false brethren, I71 labor a7id pai72ful7iess, in miich 
watchings, in hu7iger a7id tlmst, i7i fastings ofte7t, in 
cold a7id nakedness r — 2 CoR. ii. 25. . . . 

For three hundred years the history of the Church 
is a histoiy of persecutions ; nor did they cease with 
the conversion of Constantine. Under many of his 
successors, confiscation, exile, prison, and death 
were the lot of Christians true to their faith. In- 
deed it may be said that at all times the good have 
had to suffer, and to suffer ^' for justice'' sake;'''' that 
is, because of their ver}^ goodness. The dishonest, 
the corrupt dislike them, as interfering with their 
pursuits and their pleasures, and because the ver}^ 
life of the just man is a protest against their meth- 
ods. It is thus that they are described in the book 
of Wisdom (ii. 12), " Let us therefore lie in wait for the 
just because he is not for our tur7i (he is of no use to 
us), and he is C07itrary to our doings, afid upbraidcth 
us with transgressions of the law, and divulgeth agai7ist 
us the si7is of our way of life. He is beco77ie a ce7isurer 
of our tho2ighfs. He is grieiwus to us, even to behold, for 



Zhc ©ersecuteb 45 

/lis life is not like other merCs and his ways are very 
different r 

And so will it be, St. Paul tells us, to the end of 
the world. " All that will live godly shall suffer per- 
secution.^'' At the hands of the evil-minded, the good 
will be made to pay the penalty of their goodness ; 
the faithful and fervent will have to bear the criti- 
cism of those who choose not to follow in their 
footsteps ; converts to the true faith will forfeit po- 
sition or fail to reach it because they have not 
closed their eyes to the light ; bom Catholics will 
seek in vain for what they might easily reach if they 
were known to be indifferent to religious truth, or to 
have eschewed all belief ; men of integrity who hold 
office or fill positions of trust will be driven from 
them because they refuse to share in the dishonesty 
of others or interefere with their crooked v/ays ; at 
every turn of life the conscientious will have to 
suffer for conscience' sake. 

The priest does not escape the common law. He 
too has occasionally to suffer for justice' sake. He 
may be led by a simple sense of duty or by the 
impulse of zeal to a manner of action which is not 
approved of by all. He is often found fault with, 
criticized, not only by the ignorant, the thoughtless, 
and the wicked, but sometimes by good peopie, and 
even by his fellow-priests. But he finds an en- 
couragement that never fails in the voice of his con- 
science and in the promise of his Divine Master : 
" Be glad and rejoice^ for your reward is very great i?t 



46 2)aili? XTbouQbts 

heaven!^ Yet he must be sure that what he has to 
endure is not of his own making. With the best in- 
tentions a man may be injudicious in his action, 
indiscreet in his methods. His firmness may degen- 
erate into obstinacy, his zeal into intolerance. He 
may, under the name and cover of duty, become self- 
righteous, narrow-minded, impatient of contradiction, 
thus awakening opposition and leading to trials hard 
to bear, but for which there is no reward. 



^^ It is good for us sometimes to suffer contradictions^ 
and to allow people to think ill and slightingly of us^ 
even when we do and mean well. 

" These are often helps to humility^ and rid us of vain 
glory. For then we more earnestly seek God to be wit- 
ness of what passes within us^ when outwardly we are 
despised by men and little credit is given to us^ — Imit, 
i. 12. 



2tost ©pportunftfes 47 




XI 

LOST OPPORTUNITIES 

" Si cognovisses / " 

" If thou hadst known ! " — Luke xix. 42. 

I HE thought which filled the mind of Our 
Lord when He uttered these words may- 
well haunt every serious mind, — the sad 
thought of lost opportunities. God's mercies towards 
His chosen people had been countless and their re- 
sponse had been miserably inadequate. The crown- 
ing grace was vouchsafed in the coming of Christ 
himself. But " He came unto His own and His own 
received Him notJ* Jerusalem in particular was hos- 
tile to Him from beginning to end, and this, politi- 
cally and religiously, sealed her fate. And so Our 
Lord, as He crossed the summit of Mount Olivet and 
looked down on the doomed city, forgot the clamor 
of triumph which surrounded Him, and shed tears of 
pity on the fate of His people blind to the value of 
the gift offered to them for the last time. If only 
thou couldst understand^ even at this last day^ what 
would bring thee peace and happiness. 

What Christ saw in the destiny of Jerusalem, each 



48 2)aili? UbouQbts 

man has to recognize in his own Hfe ; opportunities 
of all kinds lost through thoughtlessness, or blind- 
ness, or carlessness, or weakness. Who does not 
find himself with natural gifts undeveloped, which, 
if cultivated in due time, would have added con- 
siderably to his usefulness ? How many are con- 
strained to acknowledge that impatience of discipline, 
disregard of counsel, love of ease and self-indulgence 
in early life have unfitted them for the noblest tasks 
of later years ! How often do men let go the chances 
of making a due return in love and kindness until 
those to whom they owe most are beyond their reach. 
How often have they not to grieve over occasions 
they let slip, to be morally, spiritually beneficial to 
others, especially to those they knew and loved. 
Kindness implying little sacrifice, a word of sym- 
pathy, of encouragement, of timely advice, would have 
done much ; but it was not forthcoming. And now 
when they would give anything to be able to make 
up for their coldness or carelessness, it is too late. 

There are few, if any, more open to this manner 
of regret than priests. Their opportunities for doing 
good are so many and so great that it is difficult to 
keep alive to them all. Yet they all bring with them 
their corresponding responsibilities. Every soul that 
opens itself to the influence of a priest, as he speaks 
from the pulpit, or sits in the tribunal of penance, or 
visits the sick, or listens to the story of trials, per- 
plexities, and sorrows that are poured into his ear 
day after day, — every soul gives him a fresh oppor- 



%08t ©pportunftfes 49 

tunity to do God's work and to gather fruit for life 
eternal. Of those he misses, some he can never 
recall : that unique occasion to stand up and speak 
out at any cost for what was noble and true ; that 
great charity which appealed to him in vain, because 
it could be done only at the cost of some great 
sacrifice ; that long-wished-for advantage, finally 
secured, but at the cost of self-respect ; that friend- 
ship preserved only by being unfaithful to principle. 
These opportunities are rare, and if not grasped at 
once are gone fosever, — gone like the souls a priest 
might have won from sin, or lifted up to sanctity, if 
he had been watchful, but which he suffered to go 
before God as he found them. 

Happily there are occasions which come back, op- 
portunities which remain. The action of the priest 
is mostly continuous, and what is missing in it at 
one time may be made up for at another. Souls 
neglected may become the objects of special care ; 
works allowed to languish for a time may receive a 
fresh infusion of vigor and recover all their useful- 
ness. In many ways the past may be redeemed. 
St. Paul speaks on several occasions of " redeeming 
the time^^ (Eph. v. i6; Col. iv. 5); that is, making 
the most of the present and its opportunities. This 
is a m-eans ever open to those who have to grieve 
over past losses. While life remains, they can al- 
ways begin afresh, take up new and still higher 
purposes, organize new campaigns, fight new battles 
and win them. 



50 2)ails UbouQbts 




XII 

THE WORLDLY SPIRIT 

" Non sapis ea qucB Dei sunt^ sed ea qum hominumJ^ 
" Thou savorest not the things that are oj God^ but 
the things that are of ma?t" — Matt. xvi. 23. 

[|LL through the New Testament a contrast 
is estabhshed between the spirit of God 
and the spirit of the world; between 
^'worldly wisdom ^^ and ''the wisdom from above^ 
" The wisdom of this world ^^^ writes St. Paul (i Cor. 
iii. 19), '' is foolishness before God ^^'^ and St. James 
(iii. 15) calls it ''earthly^ sensual^ devilish H'' It is in 
the same sense of condemnation that the world itself 
is spoken of again and again by Christ himself. 
Closed against the spirit of truth, it hates Him and 
all those who belong to Him ; it rejoices because 
He goes away, but its triumph is, in reality, vain, 
for He has conquered the world. 

There is, then, in this world, and in some sense 
identified with the world, a power that is hostile to 
Christ, that counteracts His influence and tends to 
destroy His work. What is that power ? It is the 



Ube TKHorlMy Spirit 5i 

unregenerated spirit of man, or man without the 
Gospel. 

All, assuredly, is not evil in the natural man. 
There still remain in him the natural virtues, a fund 
of integrity, of humanity, of nobleness. Even un- 
' assisted by divine grace he can perform many actions 
invested with moral goodness. But these are not 
his predominant features. In the average man the 
evil elements prevail. His impulses and actions 
are incomparably more in the direction of evil than 
of good. He belongs to Satan more than to God. 
By the very nature of the case, a world composed 
of such men is hostile to Christ, and the very pur- 
pose of His Gospel is to counteract the spirit which 
animates it. Hence a struggle which is destined to 
last to the end of time, inasmuch as the opposing 
forces are both indestructible. "// is this^^^ says 
F. Faber (" Creator and Creature," p. 362), which 
makes earth such a place of struggle and of exile. 
Proud, exclusive, anxious, hurried, fond of comforts, 
coveting popularity, with an offensive ostentation of 
prudence, it is this worldliness that hardens the hearts 
of men, stops their ears, blinds their eyes, vitiates their 
tastes, and ties their hands so far as the things of 
God are concerned^ The condition of man before 
the Deluge, as described by Our Lord, was one of 
worldliness rather than of sin. So was that of the 
rich man in the parable. The Pharisees were 
essentially worldlings. There was much respectable 
observance, much religious profession among them ; 



52 Bailp ZboiXQhts 

yet in the judgment of Our Lord, they were further 
from grace than publicans and sinners. They were, 
in fact, all through His public life the worst enemies 
of his person and of His Gospel. 

The worldly spirit has its degrees. It may reign 
supreme in a soul, causing her to consider everything 
in the light of temporal success and enjoym.ent, with- 
out any thought of God or of life beyond the grave. 
But much more commonly it mingles in varying pro- 
portions with the better elements of the soul, and 
even with her supernatural gifts. It allies itself with 
real faith, genuine zeal, and all the other virtues. 
This may be seen in the severe rebuke administered 
by Our Lord to St. Peter soon after his well-known 
confession. " T/ioz^ savorest not the thmgs that are of 
God, but the things that are of men^ It is after they 
had received the gift of working miracles that James 
and John are reprimanded as not knowing to what 
spirit they belong. This danger besets all Christians, 
even those whose calling is the holiest and whose 
intentions are the best. The wisdom of the world 
is full of seduction. It looks so practical, so well 
balanced, so full of moderation. It falls in with 
what is most acceptable in man's natural instincts. 
In fact, from the very first the difficulty was to escape 
from the snares of the world, not at its worst, but at 
its best. Hence the false security which it begets 
and the ease with which it is followed ; whereas to 
understand the wisdom of the Gospel, and to follow 
it, demands unceasing watchfulness and constant 
exertion. 



Zbc morlDlB Spirit 63 

A good priest may become worldly ; a tepid priest 
is almost sure to be so. His tepidity will usually 
take the form of worldliness. He will observe the 
external proprieties of his calling, and get a name 
for practical wisdom, but there will be little prayer 
in his life, little humility, little self-denial. Even the 
good priest is ever in danger of allowing the spirit 
of the world to supplant the spirit of the Gospel in 
his soul. It is hard to live in a place and not im- 
bibe its spirit. It is in the air one breathes, in the 
numberless objects that strike the senses. It is con- 
veyed in every conversation. Hov/, then, is the 
priest to escape it ? 

By watchfulness and prayer, — by being ever on 
his guard, ever purifying his motives, ever praying 
for help from above. 



*^/am de mundo non estis^ — Joan xvii. 



5i 2)ails XTbougbts 




XIII 

OPENINGS 

" Ostium mihi apertum est magnum et evidensP 
" A great door is opened to me^ — i Cor. xvi. 9. 

|WICE in writing to the Corinthians, St. 
Paul uses the same expression. Once he 
tells them of the lengthened stay he makes 
at Ephesus, " because a great door is opened to him,^^ 
On another occasion (2 Cor. ii. 12) he mentions 
the disappointment he feels at being unable to avail 
himself of the opportunity of diffusing the Gospel at 
Troas where " a door was open to him in the Lord,''^ 
In these expressions dropped unconsciously it is 
easy to recognize the apostle, — a man who has 
only one thing at heart: to convey the Gospel of 
Christ to all men. 

Whoever has any important object at heart is 
always watching for opportunities to advance it. 
The merchant is ever seeking for fresh openings to 
enlarge his trade. The lawyer, ambitious to rise in 
his profession, watches for cases in which, irrespec- 
tive of pecuniary profit, he may find an occasion to 



©penings 55 



display his powers. The aspirant to civic or poUti- 
cal honors eagerly grasps every opportunity to win 
popular favor. And so the true messenger of Christ 
is ever watching for fresh openings to further the 
cause of the Gospel and the spiritual good of his 
fellow men, and ever prompt to detect them, prompt 
to avail himself of them, and to forget all else in the 
pursuit of what his heart is set upon. Such we find 
St. Paul from the hour of his conversion to that of 
his death. Such were the men of God chosen in 
various ages to continue the work of the apostles. 
In all we notice the same singleness of purpose, the 
same readiness to avail themselves of every opening 
they could find for the work to which they had 
devoted their lives. 

Every day when a priest awakes to his work and 
looks around him, how truly may he repeat the 
words of the Apostle : '^ A great door is open to me f^'* 
There are doors wide open every day and all day 
long: sinners not far from the Kingdom of God, 
ready in fact to yield to the first touch of a 
priestly hand ; or souls careless in the performance 
of their duties and leading a life of lukewarmness, 
yet not ill-disposed, and only waiting for a little help 
to turn to a life of fervor ; or, it may be, a whole 
generation of children, susceptible, if properly han- 
dled, of the happiest and most abiding impressions. 

And then there are occasional openings, in regard 
to individuals or to certain classes, such as non- 



56 Dails UbouQbts 

Catholics or unbelievers ; circumstances especially 
favorable for the establishment of a confraternity, of 
an association for young people or for old, of some 
blessed devotion from which the happiest results 
may follow in due time. 

The zealous priest is quick to notice such oppor- 
tunities, and prompt to avail himself of them. 
Hence the striking difference between the field he 
cultivates and that around him. In the one there is 
exuberant fertility; in the others, barrenness and 
decay. One would say that while the spiritual life 
accumulates in the former, it is slowly drained out 
of the latter. The careless, the indolent, the easy- 
going priest fails to recognize such openings, or if 
he notices, he fails to study them, because he in- 
stinctively fears that a closer knowledge of them 
would reveal possibilities such as to destroy the 
quietude he would fain continue to enjoy in his life 
of inaction and ease. 

Am I alive to the interests of God, eager to ad- 
vance them, ever watcliing for openings to do so, 
ever making the most of them when they come? 
The more they are availed of the more numerous 
and the more inviting are they. The saints met 
them at every turn of their daily life. 



Zhc IDofce ot (5o& 57 




XIV 

THE VOICE OF GOD 

" Loquere^ Domine^ quia audit servus tuusP 
" Speak, Lord, for thy servant hearetk.'^ — i Kings 
iii. lo. 

|0D speaks to man in many ways. Only to 
a few, and to them but rarely, does He 
speak in the form of a miraculous commu- 
nication ; in other ways, however, His voice is heard 
by all. He reveals Himself in Nature. " The earth 
is the Lord^s and the fulness thereof. ^^ Everything in 
nature, if only thoughtfully looked at, proclaims its 
Maker. " The heavens show forth the glory of God 
and the firmament declareth the work of His hands ^ 
— Ps. xviii. I. 

To the religious mind which sees things beneath 
the surface, God speaks in history ; He speaks in 
passing events, public and personal, which faith, like 
a divine light, often makes transparent. But more 
directly, more audibly, more universally, God speaks 
to man through his conscience. For the voice of 
conscience, commanding, approving, rebuking with 



58 H)afli? ZbonghtB 

supreme authority, is and can be but the voice of 
God. It is heard indeed in the depths of the soul, 
and is one of the functions of our moral nature. 
But that nature God so fashioned as to give forth 
when touched His own law, just as ingeniously con- 
trived instruments are made to gather in human 
utterances and to repeat them at will. 

And then we know that man, especially the Chris- 
tian, is not left to his unaided faculties. The gi'ace 
of God is ever present, stirring them up and strength- 
ening them. What we hear, therefore, in the silent 
chambers of the soul is not merely the voice of our 
moral nature echoing the voice of God; it is God 
Himself emphasizing, as it were, that same voice, 
and causing it to be more distinctly and more accu- 
rately heard ; the two voices, that of our moral na- 
ture and that of grace, being so blended together 
that, like two notes in unison, they reach the ear as 
one. 

Thus God speaks to us all day long, sometimes in 
loud, imperative tones, sometimes in gentle whispers. 
At one time He commands or warns ; at another He 
gently suggests and persuades. For he speaks net 
only to intimate or to recall positive duties, but also 
*^/^ s^ow a more excellent way^^'^ — the way of the 
counsels. 

Often, too, in the night, when the stir of life has 
subsided and all is silent around us, does that voice 
reach us still more distinctly, especially if we lie abed 
sleepless. Then, indeed, it not unfrequently happens 



Ube IDoice of (Bob 59 

that the reaUties, the duties, the responsibiUties, the 
mistakes, the fauhs, the failings of daily life or of 
lengthened periods stand out before us with a dis- 
tinctness and a vividness unknown at any other 
time. But whenever and however the voice reaches 
us, our duty in regard to it is to listen and to obey. 

^^ To listen,''^ like the Psalmist: '' Audiafn quid lo- 
qiiatur in me Dominusr For, without listening, much 
will be lost of the warnings of conscience and of the 
promptings of grace. The sound of the alarm clock 
awakens those who have accustomed themselves to 
obey the signal. If they disregard its warning for 
some time, they cease to hear it. So men's con- 
sciences are hardened and deadened by not being 
heeded; they are sharpened and made ever more 
delicate by constant attention. Just as the trained 
ear of the expert detects sounds which go unnoticed 
by ordinary people, so the man of tender conscience 
catches appeals from within and from above which 
are lost to all others. The saints were admirable in 
this regard. They had trained themselves to heed 
the faintest soimds of the divine voice. 

But we listen only " to obeyT If obedience followed 
not on hearing, better not hear at all. ^^ He that 
knew not and did things worthy of stripes^"^^ says Our 
Lord, " shall be beaten with few stripes; but the servant 
who knew the will of his master and did not according 
to his will shall be beaten with many stripes ^ — Luke 
xii. 47. Knowledge always entails responsibility. 
Listening and obeying comprise everything. ^''Blessed 



60 2)afli? UbouQbts 

are they who hear the word of God and keep it,^^ — 
Luke xi. 28. Men are invited to do both through 
fear or through love. The slave is attentive 
and he is obedient. He watches the least sign 
of his master's will, and he hastens to carry it out, 
because he apprehends the consequence of failing in 
either. Love reaches the same results, but more 
easily and more fully. When a mother reposes near 
the couch of her sick child, she listens even in her 
sleep, and the least sign of discomfort in the little 
sufferer awakens her. So is it with those who love 
God. They are alive to the slightest indications of 
His will, even in circumstances most calculated to 
distract their attention. '^ I sleep ^^^ says the spouse 
in the Canticle, " and my heart watcheth,^'* And as 
they hear they obey promptly, joyfully, generously. 
" Loquere Domine quia audit servus tuusT 



" Good is the cloister^ s silent shade^ 
Cold watch and pining fast ; 
Better the mission^ s wearing strife^ 
If there thy lot be cast. 

Yet none of these perfection needs; 

Keep, thy heart calm all day, 
And catch the words the Spirit there 

From hour to hour may say. 



Ube Uoice of (Bot) 6i 

Tfien keep thy conscience sensitive; 

No inward token miss ; 
And go where grace entices thee ; — 

Perfection lies in this,^^ 

Faber. 



62 2)ail» Uboufibts 



XV 
THE DIVINE FRAGRANCE OF CHRIST 

" Chrisfi barms ador sumusP 

" We are the good odor of ChristP — 2 Cor. ii. 15. 



|T. PAUL speaks of himself and of his dis- 
ciple Titus, but his words apply to all those 
who are called to share in the same work, 
and who pursue it in the same spirit. The true 
priest is at all -times *' the good odor of Christ, ^"^ 

Sweet-smelling substances are grateful to all. 
Orientals in particular have shown a special love for 
them at all times. *' Ointments and perfumes rejoice 
the heart ^^'' says the sage (Prov. xxvii. 9). Isaac in- 
haled with pleasure the fragrance of Jacob's gar- 
ment as the latter approached to receive his bless- 
ing (Gen. xxvii. 27). God Himself is spoken of 
(Gen. viii. 21) as welcoming the sweet savor of the 
holocaust offered by Noah, and right through the 
Levitical law the burnt offerings are referred to as 
^^ holocausts of sweet odor,'''' The Canticle of Can- 
ticles is, so to speak, all laden with perfumes ; and 
Wisdom (EccL. xxiv. 20. 21) represents herself as 



Zbc 2)ipine ffragrance ot Cbrist 63 

enriched with aromas of the most varied kinds. 
Perfumes were part of the gifts offered to Our Lord 
by the wise men at the beginning of His mortal Ufe, 
and by Mary Magdalen toward its close. The chief 
value of the ointment she poured out on the feet of 
her Lord was its fragrance, which, St. John tells us, 
filled the whole house (John xii. 3). 

This helps us to understand the higher and 
broader sense of the expression as applied to Our 
Lord Himself. He is the source of the mysterious 
fragrance which fills the souls of His children, and 
which is a participation of His spirit and of His 
very life. The priest is the medium by which it 
reaches them. But, just as material objects, in 
order to transmit an odor, have first to become 
impregnated by close and continuous contact with 
the source from which it emanates, so the priest, in 
order to spread the divine fragrance of Christ around 
him, has to live in close contact with his Master, 
has to become familiar with His teachings, to 
imbibe His spirit, — in a word, to share more abun- 
dantly in His life. Without that, he may be active, 
intelligent, eloquent ; yet he will not carry with him 
the ^^ good odor of Christ.'''' If, on the contrary, he 
daily imbibes that spirit, if he fills his thoughts with 
the Gospel, if, according to the counsel of St. Paul 
(Phil. ii. 5), he " has thai inind in him which was also 
in Christ Jesus,''' then indeed he may go forth and 
mingle with his fellow men, for everywhere he will 
bring with him the Saviour's heavenly fragrance. 



64 Dail? Ubougbts 

Its presence in him is not slow to reveal itself. 
Just as a sweet odor goes forth of itself from a body 
saturated with it and in a way to be noticed by all, so 
the spirit of Christ goes forth from a true priest and 
pervades the atmosphere that surrounds him — a 
spirit of piety, of faith, of humility, of love — and 
nobody can approach without in some measure enjoy- 
ing it. Of Our Saviour it is said that " all the mul- 
titude sought to touch Him, for virtue went out from 
Him and healed alL''^ — Luke vi. 19. So is it with the 
pious priest ; a virtue is ever going forth from him, 
and healing a number of moral infirmities around 
him. And even when he is gone, something of his 
sweet spirit lingers behind, revealing his passage ; 
and people will sometimes say, as the disciples 
of Emmaus said of Our Lord after He had dis- 
appeared from before their eyes : " Was not our 
heart burning within us whilst he spoke in the way V* — 
Luke xxiv. 32. 

Thus is the holy priest the good odor of Christ. 
But what is the tepid, the careless, the worldly 
priest? What does he bring with him when he 
mingles with his fellow men, and what does he leave 
behind him ? 

Must we answer with the prophet Isaiah: "m/ 
pro suavi odorefcetor ? " 



" Ea debet esse vita et conversatio sacerdotis^ ut omnes 
motus et gressus, atque universa ejus opera ccelestem 
redoleant gratiam,^'' — S. Hieron. 



Ube fforgivina Spirit 65 



XVI 

THE FORGIVING SPIRIT 

" Dimittite et dimitteminiy 

" Fo7'give and you shall be forgiven,^'^ — Luke vi. 37. 



IF all the moral features introduced for the 
I first time into the world by the Gospel, 
I there is none more characteristic than the 
law of forgiveness. The pagan world knew nothing 
of it. Not to take revenge on those at whose hands 
one had suffered a wrong, was in its eyes a weak- 
ness and a dishonor. History tells of one of its 
heroes whose boast, at his last hour, was that no one 
had done more good to his friends or more harm 
to his enemies. Nor was the Jewish spirit much 
different, as may be seen all through the Old Testa- 
ment. The Law itself compounds with the blind 
impulse of revenge, allowing retaliation to the extent 
of doing to another as much harm as one has 
suffered from him. In the Sermon on the Mount, 
Christ lets us see how the popular maxims of the 
day formulated and emphasized the privilege ; but 
He refers to them only to condemn them. 



66 Bailp Ubougbts 

Revenge He forbids in the strongest and most un- 
qualified manner, — not once but repeatedly, — not 
as a counsel, but as a rigorous precept. ^'-Forgive 
and you shall be forgiven. Judge not and you shall 
not he judged, Condeinn not and you shall not be 
condemned. With the sa7?ie measure that you shall 
mete withal^ it shall be measu7'ed to you,''^ — Luke 

vi. Zh 3S. 

This emphatic lesson, we may add, comes in the 
shape of a development of Our Lord's answer to the 
inquiry of Peter as to how often tie should forgive. 
** JVot only seven times but seve7ity ti?nes seven ti7?ies ; " 
that is, indefinitely. In the Sermon on the Mount 
He goes farther still, completely disarming, as it 
were, His disciples in presence of wrongdoers. 
" You have heard: ^ A7t eye for an eye a7id a tooth for 
a tooth ' ; but I say to you not to 7'esist evil ; but if 07ie 
strike thee on thy right cheeky turn to hi7n the other also, 
, . . I say to you : love your enemies ; do good to the7n 
that hate you^ and pray for them that persecute a7id 
calumniate you.'^^ 

The whole doctrine is emphasized in the most 
striking manner in the parable of the unfaithful 
steward who refuses to show leniency to his fellow 
servant (Matt, xviii. 23). Surely the clemenrv 
and liberality of his master should have taiig 
him to be, in some degree at least, merciful and 
generous; but as he thinks only of his rights he 
forfeits the incalculable favor bestowed upon him. 

Thus hope, fear, shame gratitude, everj^ powerful 



Zbc fovQivUxQ Spirit 67 

motive, is appealed to in turn to win his pardon 
for the offending one. And in order that the lesson 
should not be at any time forgotten, Our Lord 
embodies it in the prayer which He -left for the 
daily use of His children through all ages : " J^or- 
give us our trespasses as we forgive them who trespass 
against usT 

Generally speaking, a good priest has little to for- 
give. Yet he may have enemies. He may have made 
them without knowing it, simply by faithfulness to 
some obvious duty. Sometimes he may be provoked 
to anger because he has been meanly treated, or 
unjustly accused, or defrauded of his rights. His 
good name may have suffered from unfriendly and 
unfair criticism. He may have to suffer from an 
habitual opposition to his views and methods in 
those with whom he lives, or from a lack of regard 
for his convenience or for his feelings. And though, 
at any given moment, the friction may be only slight, 
yet its continuance may prove very trying, and give 
rise to irritation and a wish to retaliate. But he 
hears in the depths of his soul the voice of Christ, 
repeating the law of forgiveness ; and it is echoed in 
the minds of all around him ; for a priest lenient to 
those who have offended him and ever ready to 
defend them, is what the people look for ; but the 
sight of a priest, hard, unforgiving, vindictive, would 
shock and sadden them. 

" Forgive and you shall be forgiven." 



68 2)ailB UbouQbts 

" Thus Christ has placed our fate in our own hands. 
We are made our own judges. To each one He says : 
' Choose, pronounce ; my sentence will follow thine. 
Forgive and thou art forgiven ! Who can expect to be 
spared if he will not spare himself 'I " — Chrysost. in 
Matt. xix. 



Hsftina ^Forgiveness 69 



XVII 

ASKING FORGIVENESS 

" Sz offers munus tuum ad altare^ et ibi recordatus 
fueris quia frater tuus habet aliquid adversum te^ 
relinque ibi munus tuum ante altare et vade prius re- 
conciliarifratri tuo, et tunc veniens offer es munus tuumP 

" If thou offer thy gift at the altar ^ and there thott 
remember that thy brother hath anything against thee^ 
leave there thy offering before the altar ^ and go first to 
be reconciled to thy brother ; and then coming thou 
shall offer thy gift'' — Matt. v. 23. 

O make reparation for any pain inflicted, 
voluntarily or involuntarily, on another ; to 
explain, to apologize, and thereby to assuage, 
if not to remove entirely, the discomfort caused, is 
so obvious a duty and so natural an impulse, that it 
would seem unnecessary to recall, still less to em- 
phasize it. Yet Our blessed Lord does both. He 
knows that what seems so easy often proves diffi- 
cult, and that what should be the universal practice 
is but too likely to be neglected, even among His 
followers. 




TO H)aili? UbouQbts 

To escape the obligation, excuses are not wanting. 
It is alleged that if pain was caused it was not in- 
tended, or that it arose, not from what was said or 
done, but from the obtuseness, or the mental obliq- 
uity, or the extreme sensitiveness, or the exorbitant 
claims of the aggrieved one. And if the wound was 
inflicted voluntarily, it is claimed that it was done 
under provocation, or in self-defence, or even for the 
positive benefit of the sufferer. 

But such excuses are generally insufficient. If I 
have involuntarily misled another in a way to incon- 
venience him, I feel bound to correct the mistake. 
If I have momentarily interfered with his possessions 
or with his bodily comfort, I am obliged to cease as 
soon as I notice the undue interference. Why should 
I be less constrained to withdraw that whereby I 
have wounded his feelings ? 

When it is only a question of explaining, of re- 
moving a misunderstanding, there is no excuse for 
omitting it. It is when we have to acknowledge 
ourselves at fault that the duty becomes more un- 
pleasant; but it is then also that its performance 
does us most credit. To confess one's faults or 
mistakes, to acknowledge and to undo the evil one 
has done, is always noble and beautiful. There is 
nobody more ready to apologize than a gentleman. 
A disregard for the feelings of others is the outcome 
of coarse feeling, or of pride, or of hardness of 
heart. 

There is no lesson more forcibly inculcated by 



Hsfttng fovQivcncss 71 

Our divine Lord than that of forgiveness of those 
against whom we have a grievance, great or small. 
But in the present instance He teaches us to ask 
forgiveness. He supposes that another has some- 
thing against us, real or imaginary, and He would 
have us dispel the cloud that has arisen between us. 
This can be done, as a rule, only by taking a step of 
the kind He recommends. " Fade reconciliari fratri 

tuor 

Friends whom some sort of unkindness has sepa- 
rated may bear each other no malice ; yet if they 
nurse their grievance in silence, they are almost sure 
to magnify it and to widen the separation. Only by 
meeting afresh can be removed what divides them. 
In strict justice it would be for the guilty one to move 
first. But each one may have or believe he has a 
grievance against the other, and is naturally more 
keenly alive to his own side of the case. He will say 
to himself : Let the other come to me ; I am ready to 
meet him. But if the other says the same, it prac- 
tically means endless estrangement. 

If we would lead others to acknowledge their 
share of the responsibiUty, the best way is to accept 
fully our own. Our generosity will shame them at 
least into justice. Hence Our Lord makes no dis- 
tinction. He considers only the feelings of the 
aggrieved one, and bids us win back his friendship. 
And this he would have us do '^ at once^'' just as 
St. Paul, says Chrysostom, would not have the dark- 
ness of night find anger still alive in the bosom of 



72 2)aili? ZhowQhts 

the Christian. " Zef not the sun go down upon your 
anger. ^'' — Ephes. iv. 26. So without delay Christ 
would have us repress it in the hearts of others. 
He fears that the soHtude of the night may aggra- 
vate the pain. The occupations of the day divert 
the thoughts of the sufferer from it, but left to him- 
self in the night he becomes absorbed in it. And 
why should the dart be left rankling in the flesh of 
another if it can be withdrawn at once ? Go then, 
says Our Lord, go without delay ; suspend the sacred 
action already begun. Though welcome to God, 
there is something still more welcome to Him, — to 
be at peace with thy brother, and to remove all 
sadness and bitterness from his heart. 

The manner of carrying out the injunction will 
be easily found if one only enters into the spirit 
from which it proceeds. As a rule the sooner mis- 
understandings are removed the better. Neglected, 
the sore is liable to fester ; yet it is sometimes better 
to let it heal of itself. There are petty grievances 
which had better be ignored. There are explanations 
which had better not be entered into. They might 
lead to fresh altercations and do more harm than 
good. A kind act, a bright smile, an unmistakable 
token of affection, may do more than aught else to 
remove misapprehensions or atone for thoughtlessly 
inflicted wrong. A priest has to be mindful of all 
this. In many ways, without meaning it, he may 
cause pain to those with whom he lives or to those 
to whom he ministers. There is much more sensi- 



HsftiuG fovQivcncsB 73 

tiveness in people than they exhibit. If he finds 
that he has wounded any, he should consider it a 
duty and a pleasure to administer the healing 
remedy in the happiest and most appropriate way. 



^^ Non dixit: Cum graviter offensus es tunc reconcil" 
iari ; sed, Etiam si leve quidpiam contra te habuerit. 
Neque adjecit : Sive Juste sive injuste^ sed simpliciter, 
Si habuerit aliquid adversum /^." — Chrysost. in 
Matt. xvi. 9-10. 



74 Daili? XLbowQbtB 




XVIII 

BELONGING TO CHRIST 

" JVbn estis vestrV^ 

" You are not your own^ — i CoR. vi. 19. 

\ N one sense, and that the most obvious, no 
man is his own. God made him. He sus- 
tains him at every moment in existence. 
Man has nothing, is nothing, but from God. He be- 
longs to God in such a way that no human possession 
or right can give any adequate conception of it. 

Yet it is not in reference to these indefeasible 
claims of God that St. Paul denies to men the right 
to dispose of themselves. It is because of their 
relations with Christ. Christ redeerjied them ; that 
is, He bought them back. He purchased them at 
the cost of His life. They are, therefore. His, not 
their own. His rights over them are unlimited. 
He may call them out at any time as His soldiers, 
or as His slaves, and require of them any service, 
even if leading to the sacrifice of their lives. 

But His actual demands on them are infinitely 
less. Indeed, He came to lighten for His people 
the burden of the law which these traditions had 



Belonging to Cbrfst 75 

rendered unbearable. ^'' His own cGmmandments are 
not ^^^z{y," writes St. John (i. v. 3), and He himself 
assures us that " His yoke is sweet and His burden 
light, ^^ not only because of the love that helps to 
bear it, but because of the fewness of the precepts 
that He enjoins on His followers. Thus the Chris- 
tian enjoys in the ordinary course of life almost 
the same freedom as other men, and is practically 
as much his own as they claim to be ; yet the 
freedom is like that of a child in his father's house, 
— wide and pleasant, but limited by love and by 
an ever-present disposition to obey. 

But what is left by God at the disposal of His 
children, they can bring back to Him at any time, 
and offer as a free and loving gift. This is the 
meaning of religious vows ; and, so far as they ex- 
tend, the consecrated soul is 7to longer her own. And 
what is done in obedience to a vow may be done 
freely. Thus St. Paul describes himself as free, 
but relinquishing that freedom for the good of others ; 
** liber essem Ofnnibtis, omnium me servum feci (i 
Cor. ix. 19). . . Omnibus omnia f actus sum ut omnis 
facerem salvos,^'' His proudest title, the one he most 
rejoices in, is that of servant, or rather, slave of 
Christ ; that is, of one who had given up his free- 
dom to Christ and was no longer his own. 
Such is the true condition of the priest. In the 
eyes of many he is independent and free, much 
more than the ordinary man ; in reality few are so 
constrained and tied down as he is. By his vocation 



76 H)ail» UboxxQbts 

freely accepted he belongs to the work of the priest- 
hood. He is no longer his own. This is one of 
the fundamental differences between a profession 
and a vocation. A man chooses a profession, he 
chooses it to suit himself, and follows it to any 
extent he thinks proper. In a vocation, the choice 
is not his ; he is chosen, and simply responds to the 
call. He gives himself up to the work with all he 
is and all he has ; his time, his talents, his knowl- 
edge and culture, his health — if needs be, his very 
life. Like St. Paul he is ready at all times to spend 
and to be spent for th.e souls of his people ; " ego 
aiitem libentissime impendam et superimpendar ipse 
pro animabus vestris^ — 2 CoR. xii. 15. Habitually 
to withdrav/ anything from that fulness of service ; to 
devote any notable part of his energies to other pur- 
poses ; to divide his life, and give one share only 
to the ends of the priesthood, making over the rest 
on whatever he may fancy, would be lowering his 
vocation to the level of an ordinary profession. 
The priest is a steward in charge of interests not 
his own. He is a servant, a sen^ant of all work, 
expected to be helpful all round and all day long. 
He can work for nobody but his Master. His rule 
is that of Our Lord himself ; "7^ tui quce Fatris mez 
sunt oportet me esse.^^ 

Priests of God, you are not your own. 



Renovation ot Spirit 77 



XIX 

RENOVATION OF SPIRIT 

^^Admoneo te ut resus cites gratiam qucB in te est per 
impositionem manuum mearumr 

" I admonish t?tee that thou stir up the grace of God 
which is in thee by the imposition of my hands, ^^ — 
2 Tim. i. 6. 

HE grace which St. Paul here speaks of has 
come to every priest in his ordination. 
Secular dignities bring nothing to the soul 
of the recipient, but sacred authority comes laden 
with divine gifts. With it is imparted to the soul a 
twofold grace ; a grace of sanctification which lifts 
her up to a higher sphere of divine life and brings 
her nearer to God; a grace of help from above, 
ever present, and aiding both to recognize the re- 
sponsibilities which have been put upon her and to 
be faithful to them. In other words, a priest, by 
the grace of his ordination, has at all times a special 
assistance from God to see where his duty lies and 
to do it. He has special impulses special warnings 
as to what is suited or unsuited to his condition, an 




78 H)atl^ Ubougbts 

intuitive sense of the proprieties of the priesthood 
and, at the same time, a facility to conform to them 
seldom found outside that sacred calling. The un- 
believing world finds it difficult to give him credit 
for the life of chastity, of charity, of self-devotion, 
which he professes to follow ; the more reflective 
among the faithful look up to him with admiration ; 
but he knows himself that he is as weak as any 
among them, and that, like St. Paul, his strength 
comes from God. " By the Grace of God I am what 
I am^ — I Cor. xv. io. 

St. Paul adds : *' and His grace in me has not been 
void,'' thereby giving to understand that, like all the 
other graces of God, the grace of ordination is only 
a help, acting, not by itself, but in conjunction with 
the free will of the recipient, and which consequently 
may be neglected, and, as happens to all unused 
vital powder, may gradually lose its energy. The 
spirit of faith, of reverence, of piety, of zeal, so 
prominent in the life of a young priest, may gradually 
decline, so as to make him, after a few years, very 
unlike his former self. This, indeed, is wdiat almost 
infallibly happens, unless the downward tendency 
be counteracted by unceasing vigilance and untiring 
effort. St. Paul was apprehensive lest such a mis- 
fortune should happen to even his beloved Timothy. 
Wherefore he writes to him : ^' Neglect not the grace 
that is ifi thee!''' — i Tim. iv. 14. 

Grace may be neglected and wasted in various 
ways: by positive, conscious resistance to its 



IRenovatfor of Spirit 79 

promptings ; by fickleness of purpose, making obe- 
dience uneven and unsteady; by thoughtlessness 
and mental dissipation, which prevents the voice of 
God from being heard, and His divine impulses from 
being felt in the soul. But whatever the cause, the 
result is always the same, and always deplorable ; a 
gradual blunting of the moral and spiritual sense, a 
hardening of the heart to divine influences, a con- 
stant loss of power. 

But it is always possible to rescue one's self from 
such a condition ; to rekindle — the very expression 
used by St. Paul (dm^wTrvpetv) — the smouldering em- 
bers, and fan them into a bright flame. Sometimes 
the work is easy enough. There are events which 
suddenly throw back a soul upon herself, and give 
her the true measure of her weakness and destitu- 
tion. Or, again, God lights up directly the hidden 
places within her, and fear, or love, or a salutary 
sense of shame, does the rest. But, as a rule, 
recovery is slow and difficult. It is is often easier 
to escape from sin than from tepidity. Yet it can 
be done, and by the usual, divinely appointed 
methods : constant striving, wathfulness, and prayer. 



" I admonish thee that thou stir up the grace of God 
which is in thee by the impositio7i of my hands.^^ 



80 H)afli? XTbouobts 



XX 

THE SERVANT OF CHRIST 

" Domine^ quid me vis facere ? " 
^'Lordy what wilt Thou have me to doV — Acts 
ix. 6. 




N act of submission to God's will, and a 
general profession of readiness to carry it 
out, may mean much or little, according 
to the real disposition, half-hearted or generous, of 
the speaker. The words of the text, uttered by 
St. Paul when he was cast down by the powerful 
and merciful hand of the Saviour, have to be 
understood in their broadest and fullest sense. 
They were the cry of unconditional surrender, a 
protestation of unlimited obedience to Him whom 
he then and there recognized as his Lord and his 
God; and his whole subsequent life tells us how 
fully and faithfully he kept his word. The life to 
which he was called was not to be an easy or a 
pleasant one. On the contrary, it was to be one of 
much trial and suffering, and he was told so from 
the beginning. " I will show him^^^ says Our Lord 



XCbe Servant of Cbrfst 8i 

to Ananias, " how great things he must suffer for my 
name's sake ; and, later on, as he goes up to Jeru- 
salem, he is v/amed that " bonds and tribulations " 
await him there. " But I fear none of these things^' he 
says, " nor do I make my life of any accowit^ so that I 
may consummate my course and the ministry of the 
word which I received from the Lord fesusT — Acts 
XX. 23, 4. And further on in the same journey, 
being cautioned afresh as to what awaits him, he 
replies : '' What do you mean weeping and afflicting my 
heart 1 For I am ready not only to be bounds but to 
die also in ferusalem for the name of the Lord fesusT 

And such, in a humble measure, has every true 
priest to be. He is, as St. Paul loves to call him- 
self, the servant, the slave of Christ, engaged in His 
personal service, bound to carry out His will in all 
things and to know no other law. ^'Lord, what wilt 
Tnou have 7ne to doV This is the keynote of his life. 

I . Lt is^ to begin with, that of his vocation. He 
aspires to the priesthood, not for the comforts, or the 
emoluments, or the credit it may bring with it ; not 
even primarily for his own spiritual benefit, but for the 
loving and devoted service of Him whose voice he 
recognized in the call. He joins the ranks to be the 
soldier of Christ, to fight His battles, and to bear 
bravely the hardships of the campaign. The pros- 
pect of pleasures to forego, of sacrifices to make, far 
from deterring, invites him all the more, since it 
gives him a precious opportunity of proving his 
devotion. 



82 H)aili? tlbougbts 

2, It is his guiding prificiple in critical emergen- 
cies. There are occasions where various courses 
are open to him, all allowable, all honorable, but net 
all equally welcome to God. It may be a position 
to seek for, or to accept, or to decline ; or, again, a 
work outside his ordinary duties. Now to make 
his choice, the true priest has but one rule to go 
by, one question to ask: " Domine, quid vis me 
facere ? '* The answer which he hears within him 
may be to the natural man most unwelcome ; it may 
point to the sacrifice of some much-wished-for bene- 
fit or enjoyment, or to the performance of some 
tedious, ungrateful task, or to a course likely to be 
misunderstood and censured. It matters not. If 
in it he recognizes the will of the Master, it will be 
done at any cost. 

^. It is his rule of each day. The servant or the 
workman v/hose occupations are varied, waits every 
morning on his master, or his employer, to have his 
daily task assigned to him. In like manner the 
priest, alive to his true condition, realizes from his 
first awaking that he is not free to do as he likes 
with the new day that dawns upon him. His first 
thoughts therefore revert to his Master, and his first 
concern is to know what He expects of him. This 
is one of the objects of his morning meditation, to 
look into the day that is before him, and to measure 
the work that he is expected to do for the honor of 
Christ and for the good of souls. " lord^ what wilt 
Thou have me to doV Happy the priest v/ho, in 



Ube Servant of Cbrlst 83 

great things and in small, is thus ever guided by a 
sense of loyalty to his Lord. Happy the priest 
whose life from beginning to end is one of loving 
obedience. He need not fear death, for at what- 
ever time the Master may come to call him away, he 
will be found watching, working, ready. " Blessed 
is that servant whom when his lord shall come, he 
shall find so doing^ — Luke xxiv. 46. 



84 Dailp ZbowQhts 



XXI 

PITY 



" Misereor super turbam,'*^ 

" / have compassion on the multitude.^'* — Matt. 
XV. 32. 



HRIST, the incarnate Son of God, was all 
compassion. Compassion for fallen man it 
was that brought Him down from heaven 
and led Him up to Calvary. His Incarnation and 
His death, as seen in the light of faith, are deeds 
of supreme, boundless pity, such as man could 
never have looked for or imagined. To accomplish 
them the Eternal Son had to divest Himself, or 
as St. Paul says, " to empty Himself *' — " exinanivit 
semetipsum^^ — of attributes and privileges seem- 
ingly inseparable from His divine nature. 

And as compassion inspired His coming, so it per- 
vaded and colored His whole mortal life, revealing 
itself at every step under the most touching forms, 
and extending to every shape of human misery. 
Thus in reading the Gospel one cannot fail to notice 
in the first place how strongly physical suffering 



pits 85 

appealed to Him wherever He met it. " He went 
about ^^"^ says St. Matthew iv. 23, '' healing all manner 
of sickness and every infirmity among the people, ' ' The 
blind, the paralyzed, the deaf and dumb, were 
lead to him, " atid they were all healed, ^^ The most 
loathsome forms of disease were powerless to repel 
Him. He gently laid His hand upon the stricken 
ones and they were cured. Those poor outcasts, 
the lepers, approached Him freely and were restored 
to health. In short. His whole public life is filled 
with such mercies. Nobody ever appealed to Him 
in vain. Even when not appealed to, the very sight 
of human suffering was enough to move Him. He 
was not asked, he was not expected, to raise to life 
the poor widow's only son ; but he saw her utter 
bereavement and that was enough. ^'' He gave him 
to his mother,^'' — Luke vii. 15. And so with the 
sufferer at the pool of Bethsaida. He finds him ex- 
hausted and disheartened by his thirty-eight years of 
helpless misery, and by his long unavailing expecta- 
tion beside the pool ; at once He bids him to arise 
and walk. And so again with the blind man whose 
story is so graphically told in the ninth chapter of 
St. John. 

He is not less alive to the more common needs 
of those around Him. When the crowds followed 
Him into the desert and, in their eagerness to hear 
Him, forgot their necessary sustenance. He is mind- 
ful of it. It is on one of these occasions that He 
spoke the touching words recorded by St. Matthew 



86 JDatls Ubougbts 

(xv. 32) : " I have co7npassio?i on the multitude because 
they continue with me now three days and have not what 
to eaty and I will not send them away fasting, lest they 
faint in the way ;'''' and that thereupon he v/rought 
in their favor the wonderful multipHcation of the 
loaves and the fishes. The very sight of the grief 
of Martha and Mary was enough to move Him to 
tears ; while, at the wedding feast of Cana, He ac- 
tually wrought a miracle in order to prolong the 
enjoyment of the assembled guests and spare a 
humiliation to those who had invited them. 

That tender regard for the feelings of others 
reveals itself most strikingly in His treatment of 
those who were specially despised or hated by the 
Jev/s. He visits the Samaritans and stays several 
days with them, speaking more openly of Himself to 
them than He had done to his ovv^n, and subsequently 
w^e ab>vays find him referring to them in terms of 
kindness. Nor is His action different with regard 
to the publicans. He visits them, He eats with 
them, he chooses one among them, St. Matthew, for 
an apostle. If His enemies upbraid Him with the 
favor He shows them, He answers by the declara- 
tion, that it was, after all, for sinners He had 
come. 

Indeed, His tender pity for sinners is perhaps the 
most striking aspect of His divine compassion. 
There was in His soul a horror of sin beyond any- 
thing that the human mind can imagine. The Saints 
tell us in their writings how loathsome sin v.^as in their 



Ptt» 87 

sight ; and they had but a faint image of the reality, 
for God alone can see sin in its true light. And yet 
how lovingly He pictures sinners in the parables of 
the lost sheep and of the Prodigal Son ! With what 
merciful condescension He welcomes them when 
they approach Him I How effectively he repels the 
accusers of the woman taken in adultery I How 
warmly he pleads the cause of Mary Magdalen 
repentant at His feet I How generously he promises 
to the penitent thief an immediate share in His 
Kingdom 1 At the bidding of the Pharisees and the 
priests, Jerusalem had repeatedly declined to listen 
to Him. He had been constantly opposed by those 
in power. Yet at the very moment they were plan- 
ning to take away His life, He forgets their obsti- 
nacy, their perverse blindness. Looking down from 
Mount Olivet on the devoted city, He weeps over 
her impending fate : " Videns civitatem flevit super 
illam;^^ and one of His last words on Calvary is a 
touching appeal for those who had nailed Him to 
the cross : ^^ Father^ forgive them ^ for they know not 
what they do^ Thus the life of Our Lord from 
beginning to end was an unceasing exercise of the 
purest, the holiest, the most generous and most in- 
dulgent compassion. 

Who would not love one so merciful and good ? 

Who would not strive to be like Him ? 



88 Bails ZhowQbts 



XXII 

HOW TO BEAR HONORS 

^^ Redorem te posueruntl Noli extolli; esto in illis 
quasi unus ex ipsis. Cur am illorum hahe!^'^ 

" Have they made thee ruler ? Be not lifted up : be 
among them as one of them. Have care of theni^ and so 
(then) sit down.'''' — Eccl. xxxii. i. 

I HE advice of Ecclesiasticus is addressed, as 
may be seen by the context, to the steward 
chosen to preside at a festive celebration ; 
but it applies without distinction to all men invested 
with authority. For it is the universal tendency of 
those who have been raised, it matters not how, 
above their fellow-men, to turn what was given them 
for the public good to self-exaltation and personal 
profit. 

Even those intrusted in any degree with spiritual 
power are not exempt from the temptation. They, 
too, are apt to forget from whence they have been 
taken, to look down upon those to whom they ori- 
ginally belonged, and, in the enjo^/ment of their 
privileges, to lose sight of the very work for which 




fjow to asear Donors 89 

they were chosen, — to minister to the needs of 
others. That such a disposition showed itself from 
the very beginning, we may gather from the warning 
of St. Peter (i Peter v. 3) to the ^''presbyters " of 
his time, not to lord it over their flocks, but rather 
to win them gently by their examples ; and history 
shows how the evil was ever breaking out afresh in 
subsequent ages. " The pride of Church dignitaries,^^ 
says St. Jerome (in. Cap. 18, Ezech.), " is wont to make 
their power oppressive,^'' zm^ the Fathers, as Ambrose, 
Gregory, Bernard, are incessantly reminding them 
of the lesson of Ecclesiasticus. It is good, there- 
fore, for us to consider it and take it to heart. 

" Have they made thee a ruler ? Be not lifted up ; 
be among them as one of them. Have care of the7n, 
and when thou hast aquitted thyself of all thy charge, 
(only then) take thy placed In other words, 
" remember that thou wert at first no better than those 
who are now placed under thee ; and that thou still 
remainest in reality only their equal ; nay more, that, 
in a true sense, thou hast become their servant, since it 
is for them, not for myself that thou hast been raised 
in dignity ; and, therefore, as it is the duty of the host 
to attend to his guests, and to think of himself only when 
they have been provided for, so shouldst thou forget thy 
very needs in thy co7icern to ininister to the needs of 
others, ^^ 

Have I done so hitherto? Has my life in the 
priesthood been a life of entire consecration to the 
service of God's children ? Is there not in me a 



90 S)afli? ZboviQMB 

tendency to make it a life of self-seeking, in which 
the love of worldly honors, of comfort, of sensual 
enjoyment, is gradually superseding the pursuit of 
God's honor and the love of souls ? 

Do I keep alive within me the sympathies which 
bind the heart of a priest to his people ? Do I truly 
remain one of them — " ^^ among them as one of 
them^^ — never looking down even on the weakest 
or the worst, never hard or unfeeling, but tender, 
compassionate, helpful, cordially sharing the joys and 
the sorrows of all ? Do I remember all day long 
that I belong to them, not to myself, and that the 
very names by which my calling is commonly desig- 
nated, — officium^ — ministerium, — are expressive 
not of dignity, but of duty; not of the rights of a 
master, but of the menial duties of a servant ? 

This is the law laid down by Christ himself to His 
apostles : ''he that will be first among you shall be 
your servant ^^'' — Matt. xx. ; and this St. Paul so 
admirably practised : " / made myself the servant of 
ally — I Cor. ix. 



" Ufide cuncti qui prcesunt non in se potestatem debent 
ordinis sed cequalitatem pensare conditionis ; nee proeesse 
se hominibus gaudeant^ sed prodesseJ^^ — Greg. M. ii 
Pastor, 6. 



Self-Denial 9i 




XXIII 

SELF-DENIAL 

" Si quis vult post me venire^ abneget semetipsumP 
" If any man will come after me^ let him deny him- 
self ^ — Matt. xvi. 24. 

ENI AL means properly the contradiction of 
a statement. But in Scripture, as well as 
in common use, it is applied also to persons. 
Peter is said to have denied his Master; and Christ 
himself threatens those who deny Him before men, 
that He will deny them before His Father who is in 
heaven. To deny, thus means to disregard, to 
ignore, to disown. And it is in this sense that Our 
Lord speaks of denying one's self He is the first to 
use the expression thus ; and, as employed by Him, it 
means that to follow Him, — to the death of the cross, 
if needs be, — '' tollat crucem suam,'*^ a man must thrust 
aside all care and concern for himself, must dis- 
regard the instincts of his nature that make him 
shrink from suffering and death, and go forth in the 
service of his Lord to meet whatever awaits him. 
If he is held back by. the love of ease and enjoy- 



92 Dafls UbouQhts 

ment, by the fear of privation and suffering, he 
cannot face the consequences of the Christian 
profession. He must, therefore, learn to refuse 
himself such pleasure as may interfere with his 
purpose. This is self-denial. *' If you know^^ says 
St. Chrysostom, ^'-what it is to deny, that is, to disown, 
to ignore another, then you know what it is to deny 
yourself. If you make no account of a?i individual, 
you heed not his appeals, nor are you affected by his 
sufferifigs. Self denial means dealing with yourself 
in a similar fashion,^'* " In its perfection, " says St. 
Basil, " // implies a renunciation of everything, even of 
life. Perfecta renunciatio in eo sita est ut de vita 
sua ne minimum affectus sit, quamvis habeat mortis 
responsum,^'' S. Gregory (32 in Matt.) draws a dis- 
tinction . between detachment from external things 
and self-denial : " Minus est abnegare quod habet, 
valde autem multum est abnegare quod est, Non sufficit 
ergo nostra relinquere nisi relinquamus et nos^ 

Self-denial, then, is but a means to an end ; by set- 
ting a man free, it enables him to devote himself 
to the service of God. The fuller the service, the 
greater that self-surrender or self-sacrifice has to be. 
Self-denial may, therefore, be practised in various 
degrees. 

I. There is a degree in which it has to be practised 
in order to ensure faithfulness to essential duties 
or to avoid grievous sin. ^^Relinquamus nosmet- 
ipsos quales peccando nos fecimus, qui superbus fuit, si 
humilis f actus est seipsum reqlinquit Si luxuriosus 



Selt-2)enial 93 



quisque ad continentiam vitam mutavit abnegavit ita- 
que semetipsu7ny This is the lowest of all ; yet for 
those who are under the influence of any strong 
passion, it implies an heroic effort, and becomes 
the source of a high degree of merit. To obey 
the law of God the intemperate man, the volup- 
tuous man, the hot-tempered, the resentful man 
has to practise a high order of self-renouncement, 
which often fails to be appreciated as it ought. 

2. The second degree is that which is necessary 
for the avoidance of venial sin — in itself a higher 
degree, because it extends to a much larger number 
of cases, and generally implies greater strictness. 

3. The third degree corresponds to the avoidance 
of the occasions of sin, even where one is not strictly 
bound to do so. Certain forms of indulgence are 
known to weaken the power of resistance to tempta- 
tion, or to deaden the conscience, or to lead to minor 
faults, and are sacrificed on that account. It is 
easy to see how much this widens the field of self- 
denial. 

4. Finally there are pleasures ever so harmless 
in themselves and ever so sweet to the individual, 
yet he gives them up in view of the higher good of 
the soul and the greater honor and glory of God. 

This is truly and purely religious self-denial. The 
other degrees are conceivable on rational grounds, 
and have been practised more or less by the ancient 
philosophers. Here we enter into the region of 
faith, and of life seen in the light of God. The 



94 H)afls XTbougbts 

Saints show the way. They were terribly cruel to 
themselves. They waged war fiercely on their flesh. 
They denied themselves the most natural and the 
most harmless enjoyments; they fasted, they fiogged 
themselves ; no heartless master ever treated a slave 
as they treated their frail and fragile bodies. The 
world witnesses their action, and calls it fanaticism 
and folly. Many half-enlightened Christians respect 
it, yet at heart they believe it to be a mistake. But 
the mistake is all theirs. Behind them the Saints 
have the unvarying tradition and teaching of the 
Church, around them the incomparable influence 
they wield over their contemporaries, and above 
them the sanction of God himself in the miraculous 
power with which He gifted them. 



"*S?/ thyself^ then, like a good and faithful sen^ant 
of Christ, to bear manfully the cross of thy Lord for the 
love of Him who was crucified for thee, 

** Prepare thyself to suffer many adversities in this 
miserable life, for so it will be with thee wherever thou 
art, 

" Drink of the chalice of thy Lord lovingly, if thou 
desirest to be his friend and to have part with him,^^ — 
Imit. ii. I2-IO. 



Ubrougb Beatb to %iU 95 



XXIV 

THROUGH DEATH TO LIFE 

" JVisi granum frumenti cadens in terram mortuum 
fuerity ipsum solum manet ; si autem mortuum fuerit^ 
multum f7'uctum afferty 

" Unless the grain of wheat falling into the ground 
die, itself remaineth alone ; but if it die it bringeth 
forth much fruit!''' — John xii. 24. 



HAT Our Blessed Lord thus sets before 
us, is not merely a fact of the material 
world; it is a type of what is about to 
happen in Himself, and at the same time the revela- 
tion of a general law extending to His followers 
and to mankind at large, — the law being this, that 
the highest ends and fullest expansion of life are 
reached only by sacrifice ; often by the sacrifice of 
life itself. 

It was so in His own case. In His secret in- 
terview with Nicodemus, He tells how He is to 
be lifted up like the brazen serpent in the desert, 
that all who believe in Him may be saved. Later 
on, speaking to the Jews (John viii. 28), He refers 
to the time when He shall have been lifted up by 



96 Wail'Q ZhoviQbts 

them. On Mount Thabor, where He enjoys a 
visible anticipation of His glorified humanity, the 
subject of His discourse with Moses and Elias is 
His approaching passion : " ^/ dicebant excessum ejus 
qiiem completurus erat in Jertisalein ; " and after His 
resurrection He reminds the disciples of Emmaus 
that it was the divinely appointed plan that He 
should reach His glory only through His sufferings 
and death : ^^ Nonne haec oportuit pati Christum et ita 
i7it7'are in gloriam suam ? " The indissoluble con- 
nection of the two is clearly before His mind when, 
referring to the grain of wheat, " The hour is come,'** 
he says, " that the Son of Man should he glorified; '* 
that is, that the glorious work for which He came 
should be accomplished ; but it must be at the cost 
of His life. Like the grain of wheat, He must die 
to give life to the world ; and, recurring once more 
to His favorite expression. He adds f John v. 32), 
" And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, I will draw 
all things to my self, ^^ 

Such then was the price of the salvation of man- 
kind, as freely ordained by the divine Wisdom and 
freely consented to by Our Saviour. But it was 
also the price at which the apostles were admitted 
to share in the blessed work. Long before His 
death He had warned them of this (Matt, x.) : 
'^ Behold, I send you as sheep in the midst of 
wolves. . . . They will scourge you in their syna- 
gogues . . . and you shall be hated by all men for 
my fiame^s sake, . . . Fear ye not them that kill the 



XCbrougb Beatb to %\tc 97 

^ody and are not able to kill the soulP And in His 
last discourse, He reminds them of it again: ^''Re- 
member my words that I said to you : The servant is 
not greater (that is, has no claim to be better off) 
tha?i his master. If they have persecuted me they will 
also persecute you^ — John xv. 20. They, too, Uke 
the grain of wheat, had to die in order to produce 
the rich harvest of souls that was to spring from 
them. And so was it through the early ages of the 
Church. The blood of martyrs was the seed of 
Christians, as Tertullian said : " Sanguis martyrtwi 
semen est Christianorum,''^ And so will it be to the 
end of time. In the eyes of civilized man and 
savage alike, the strongest argument in favor of 
a doctrine is to be found in the sacrifices made by 
those who propagate it ; the sacrifice of life, if need 
be, and, in a minor degree, the sacrifice of ease, 
fortune, country, home. This is the secret of the 
success of our missionaries abroad, and of the most 
influential and venerated priests around us. 

Indeed, it may be said that sacrifice is the con- 
dition of success in every sphere. The explorer, 
the reformer, the statesman, the soldier, have all to 
relinquish much of the lower pleasures of existence. 
Their life is not, and cannot be, a life of ease and 
enjoyment. They have, to use the Biblical term, 
*' to die " to many things, if they would be successful 
in their respective pursuits. Of nobody is this 
more true than of the priest. His life can be truly 
fpoilful to himself and to others only on condition 



98 H)aili? ZhouQbts 

of his dying to the natural Hfe ; that is, of volun- 
tarily foregoing many pleasurable things within his 
reach ; at one time, emolument, at another, advance- 
ment; here, the enjoyment of family, there, the 
comforts of an easy life. Only in proportion as he 
relinquishes these things, to say nothing of those 
forbidden, does he grow in personal holiness and 
in public usefulness. " Unless the grain of wheat 
falling into the ground die^ itself remaineth alo7te ; 
but if it die it briiigeth forth much fruits 



" Behold in the cross all doth consist^ and all lieth in 
our dying ; and there is no other way to life but the 
way of the Holy Cross and of daily mortification^^ — 
Imit. ii. lo. 



Ubc %ovc ot Cbil&ren 99 



XXV 

THE LOVE OF CHILDREN 

*' Smite parvulos venire ad me^ et ne prohibueritis 
eoSy talium enim est regnum Dei^ 

" Suffer the little children to come unto me and for- 
bid them not ^ for of such is the Kingdom of God^ — 
Mark x. 14. 



HE priest should love all his people. There 
is no age, no condition of life, no degree of 
I worthiness or unworthiness, which has not 
its special claims on him. When the pastor of 
souls considers in succession the various members 
of his flock, he finds in the individual circumstances 
of each something that goes directly to his heart. 
But to none does he feel more sweetly drawn than 
to children, and to none should he more readily 
devote his time and labor. 

I. He learns to love them from the example of 
the Divine Master himself. Nothing is more touch- 
ing in our Lord than His tender regard for these 
little ones. They instinctively gather around Him. 
With their parents they follow Him into the desert, 
and share in the miraculous meal of the loaves and 



100 Dailp UhowQbts 

the fishes. And He, in His divine condescension, 
welcomes them, caresses them, gives them His 
blessing. The scene described by St. Mark in his 
brief, graphic way, shows beautifully how He felt, 
and doubtless how He w^as wont to act in their 
regard : '^ And they brought to Him young childreii 
that He 7night touch them, and the disciples rebuked 
those that brought them. Whom when Jesus saw, He 
was much displeased a?id saith to than : Suffer the little 
children to come unto me and forbid thein not, for of 
such is the Kijigdom of God, . . . And, e?nbracing them 
and laying His hands upo?i them. He blessed ihein,''^ 

2. What drew thus the heart of Our Lord towards 
children He Himself is careful to tell us: ^^ For of 
such is the Kingdom of Heaven^ Their condition is 
most like that of the a,ngels, and fittest to appear 
before God, — fittest also for His kingdom here 
below, under the law of the Gospel. And this is 
why the priest, whose business is to build up that 
kingdom, loves little children. Already and without 
effort they are vv^hat He wishes all to be. Children 
are naturally without guile, artless, harmless, incap- 
able of doing any serious injury. Their minds and 
souls are transparent. They are strangers to the 
passions and defilements of later years, and nearer 
to the condition of angels than to that of fallen 
man. They are for a time ignorant of evil, and 
w^hen, later on, the knowledge of it comes, it only 
awakens in them at first a sense of horror. And 
if its taint reaches their souls in any degree, it 



Ube %ovc of Cbilbren loi 

remains on the surface and is easily removed, or 
drops off of itself. The child is naturally humble. 
He looks up to those around him as stronger and 
wiser than himself. He turns to them instinctively 
for guidance and for help, and is docile and obedi- 
ent in most things without effort. He is trustful, 
hopeful, little concerned about the future ; just 
what Our Lord taught His followers to be. And 
this is why the priest turns to children as the purest, 
the heavenliest part of his flock. 

In the child, besides, he sees already the Christian 
of later years, and watches with delight his earliest 
impressions, in order to cultivate the seeds of good- 
ness implanted in him by the Creator, to check, 
and, if possible, to destroy, the budding shoots of 
evil. No soil is more fertile, more responsive to 
intelligent cultivation, than the souls of children. 

But to be successful in this blessed work much 
patience is necessary and much kindness. The 
priest must begin by winning the affections of his 
children, and nothing is easier. He meets them 
at every step, on the streets, at Sunday-school, in 
their homes. They look up to him with awe, as 
to a mysterious preternatural being, and attach a 
special value to what comes from him. A little 
gift, a kind word, a pleasant smile, a simple recog- 
nition, is appreciated by them. Children were wont 
to follow St. Francis de Sales on the streets of 
Annec37, and into his house or into the Convent 
of the Visitation, as if drawn by an irresistible 



102 H)aflB XTbouabts 

attraction. There is no more pleasing trait in a 
priest than to be popular with the children, nor are 
there many more helpful to him in his work. By it 
he not only reaches and holds the children them- 
selves during the important period of their moral 
and religious training, but he also reaches the 
hearts of their parents, for nothing is more welcome 
to them than what is done for their little ones. 



" Hi pair 6771 sequu7itur^ 77tatre77i aTnant, proxifno 
velle malu77i tieschmf, cura77t opU7n negligunt, non 
insolescwit^ 7t07t 77te7itm7ztur, dictis credu7tt, et quod 
audiu7it veruTn habeTit Reverte7tdii77t est igitur ad 
si7nplicitate7n puerorum quid eos ea collocate speciem 
hu7nilitatis DoTuiniccd circumfere7nusy — S. Hilar, in 
Matt. 



Cbrfst tbe Comforter los 



XXVI 

CHRIST THE COMFORTER 

" Veiiite ad me omnes qui laboratis et onerati estis 
et ego reficiam vosP 

*' Come unto me all you that labor and are burdened^ 
and I will refresh you" — Matt. xi. 28. 



T is to the whole world and to all ages, that 
this tender invitation went forth from the 
heart of Our Lord. Those who heard it 
spoken, thought only of themselves and of the end- 
less Pharisaic prescriptions and practices which ex- 
hausted their energies, and weighed them down like 
an unbearable burden. And to them, indeed, and 
to their troubles did the words of the Master refer 
immediately. But they meant much more. His 
appeal and His promise extended to all human suf- 
fering and sorrow. The very first time He preached 
in a synagogue, He took for His text the prophetic 
words of Isaiah : *' The Spirit of the Lord is upon me^ 
to preach good tidijtgs to the poor ; to proclaim release 
to the captiveSy recovery of sight to the blind, to set 
at liberty those that were bruised ;" and he added, 
*' This day is fulfilled this Scripture; " that is, I shall 



104 DaUp ZbowQhts 

accomplish all that is promised. And ever since, 
He has kept His promise with all those who have 
turned to Him in their trials. 

What He promised was not the removal of suffer- 
ing, for suffering is a divinel}^ appointed discipline 
in this world, correcting, warning, calling back to 
God those who forget Him, as nothing else can do. 
But often there is too much of it for human weak- 
ness to endure, and then its beneficent effects are 
liable to be lost, and manifold evils to take their 
place. There are sorrows that crush the soul, or 
waste all her vitality ; acute bodily suffering, chronic 
illness, humiliation, loss of position or fortune, re- 
peated disappointment, and failure. Unsustained by 
faith the soul sinks under them, or settles down in 
a condition of abject misery. But the Christian 
hears the loving voice of the Saviour calling him : 
" Come and I will refresh you!''' 

He comes, and, first of all, he learns from his 
Divine Master that it is good for him to suffer: 
^^ Beati qui lugent;^^ — that his trials are m^eant to 
wean his affections from earth, and turn them 
heavenward; that the pain he endures is of short 
duration, and the reward without end; that if he 
be a sinner, the present is the best time to ma^ke 
atonement, and that humble submission is always 
the most welcome homage to God. 

And then Christ spreads out before him His own 
life so full of privation and sorrow. He shows Him, 
as He did to St. Thomas, the w^ounds in His hands 



Cbrist tbe Comtortet 105 

and His feet ; He allows him to see into the depths 
of His sacred passion ; He leads him to the gar- 
den of His agony, to the pillar at which He was 
scourged, to the cross of Calvary upon which He 
died; and then He gently asks him whether he is 
not ready to bear something in return for His sake. 
Hard-hearted indeed would he be, and unworthy 
the name of Christian, if he declined to do so. 

While Christ by His example and by His love thus 
encourages His poor child. He infuses the charm 
of divine grace into his afflicted soul, and imparts 
the courage to take up afresh his cross and to bear 
it. Thus He dealt with St. Paul, leaving him to 
bear to the end that " sting of the flesh '' from which 
he prayed so hard to be delivered, but assuring 
him of a grace that would enable him to support it : 
" Sufficit tibi gratia 7nea.^^ — 2. CoR. xii. 9. 

Here is the secret of that mysterious joy which 
filled the souls of the Saints of all ages in the midst 
of their trials, and which so perplexed the unspiritual 
who beheld them. '' Crucem vident^^'* says St. Ber- 
nard, " unctio7iem non videntP This is the source of 
that stream of happiness, flowing down through 
Christian ages, in which countless weary souls have 
slaked their thirst. " C^';^^?," said Our Lord to each 
one in turn, ''come to me, and you shall find 7'est to 
your soulsT ''Requiem invenietis animabus vestrisJ^ 
And they found it : rest and peace of intellect con- 
cerning the great problems of life, while all was 
darkness and confusion around them; peace of 



106 2)ail^ UbowQbtB 

soul in the midst of trials, patience in sufferings, 
hope in the gloomiest hours, and, for those who 
came nearest to Christ, "joy in tribulation ; '' and in 
presence of death itself, nothing but a cry of fearless 
defiance \ '-'^ O Deaths where is thy victory ? O Death 
where is thy sting V^ 

The priest, too, has labor to face, often uncon- 
genial and tedious ; he has burdens to bear, some- 
times too heavy for his shoulders. But, if he only 
listens, he, too, will hear the voice of Christ calling 
him. From the crucifix, from the tabernacle, the 
sweet words will come forth, and go straight to his 
heart : 

" Come, O my son, come to Me ; thy mind is dark- 
ened; I will give it back its wonted light : thy heart is 
sad and sinking ; I will cheer and brighten it; thou 
art weak, I will strengthen thee ; thou meetest coldness, 
unkindness, neglect, censure, at the hands of thy fellow- 
men. Come to Me, and in the embrace of My love all 
will be forgotten^ 



'^^ Laborantes ad refectionem invitat, ad requiem 
provocat oneratos ; non tame7i onus subtrahit aut 
labo7'em, magis autem onere alio, alio labore commutat ; 
sed onere levi, suavi jugo, in quibus requies aut refectio, 
etsi minus appareat, tamen inveniatur^ — S. Bern,, 
Serm, XV, in Psalm. 



Xlbe priest a Comforter lor 




XXVII 

THE PRIEST A COMFORTER 

" Venite ad me omnes qui laboratis et onetati estis et 
ego reficiam vosJ^ 

" Come to me all you that labor and are burdened^ 
and I will refresh you, — Matt. xxi. 28. 

|HE priest is here below the representative 
of Christ. He continues the work of the 
Saviour among men, and therefore he may 
borrow without presumption the words of his Master, 
and apply them to himself. In a true sense he, 
too, can say to his fellow-men, " Come to 7neJ^ 

The occasion to do this blessed v/ork is never 
missing ; for though much better and happier than 
when Christ came, the world is still full of darkness 
and of wickedness, of suffering and of sorrow. The 
primeval curse is still visible on the human race : 
" In the sweat of thy face shall thou eat breads The 
active energies of the vast majority of men are spent, 
like those of animals, in seeking food ; they keep alive 
only at the cost of unceasing toil. Even those who 
escape the pressure of physical wants, are liable to 



108 2)ail^ XTbouobts 

worse, — sickness in one or other of its innumerable 
shapes, robbing existence of all its joy ; the loss of 
fortune ; poverty, with all the privations and embar- 
rassments it entails ; severance by death, or by 
estrangement of affection, of the closest and dearest 
ties ; or again, sorrow, or failure, or disgrace, light- 
ing on others dearer than self. Or it may be the 
agony of religious doubt, or the dark void of unbelief, 
or the remorse and the shame of sin. How few es- 
cape entirely these countless forms of evil ! How 
many are weighed down by them, and instinctively 
look around them for relief ! 

To all these the priest is sent ; all day long he 
cries to them : " Come to me and I will refresh youT 
For every evil he has a remedy. To those who have 
never known the blessing of faith, or in whom its 
beneficent light has been obscured by doubt, and 
w^ho grope like the blind to find an issue, or who, 
having tried in vain, settle down disheartened and 
despairing, " in darkness and in the shadow of death ^^'^ 
the priest offers the sweet, winning radiance of the 
Gospel — courage, contentment, hopefulness, joy. 
From the guilty heart he removes the crushing 
weight of sin. The relief, the comfort, the strength, 
he imparts to penitent souls every day in the tribunal 
of penance, should be enough to make all men bless 
him. 

But not merely for spiritual needs do men come 
to him. He is their resource and their refuge in 
all their trials. The poor, the sick, the afflicted, 



Ube priest a Comforter 109 

instinctively turn to him. From him they expect 
what nobody else can or will do for them. Nor do 
they hope in vain. Compassion is easy to him, for 
he is no stranger himself to the miseries of life. ''^He 
is taken,''' says St. Paul (Heb. v. i.), ''from amo7ig 
men and ordained for meii . . . who can have compas- 
sion on them, because he hi^nself is also compassed with 
infirmity y And then daily contact with the heart of 
his Master has enlarged his heart, and filled it with 
an inexhaustible treasure of pity. The relief found 
in sympathy, by those who suffer, is simply incalcu- 
lable ; but the priest does more than sympathize 
with them : he tries to relieve them. His pity is 
active, because his love is sincere. The selfish man 
tries to forget the needs and sufferings of his fellow- 
m.en ; or he hardens himself against them by some 
scientific theory, or he attempts to buy himself off 
by some transient beneficence. Not so the true 
priest. He is ever mindful of those who suffer, ever 
anxious to help them. His love makes him re- 
sourceful. Often he succeeds in accomplishing 
v/hat nobody else could or would do. 

And even when he has thus made the burden 
endurable, his heavenly work is not ended. He 
still possesses the secret of lightening the weight of 
what remains. Behind what cannot be removed, he 
reveals the hidden hand of God dealing out what is 
so unwelcome to nature, not in anger, but in love. 
''Because thou wast acceptable to God,'''' said the Arch- 
angel to Tobias, ^' it was necessary that temptation 



110 Bails XTbougbts 

(i.e. suffering) should prove thee^ And thus the 
trials of life come to be looked upon as blessings in 
disguise, not only to be borne patiently, but to be 
readily accepted, and positively welcomed. 

Truly the priest is the great comforter of man in 
his misery, dispensing relief, brightness, hope, joy- 
ful submission, to all who come under his influence. 
But only the true priest can do such things — the 
man of faith, of charity, of unselfish devotion, the 
man who loses himself in the service of others. The 
intelligent man, the active man, the good-natured 
man, can do something for them ; the man of God 
alone can do all. 

" Wherefore do thou^ O man of God, pursue justice^ 
godliness, faith, charity, patience, mildness ^ — i Tim. 
vi. 2. 

" Sit rector singulis compassione proximus, prce cunctis 
contemplatione suspensus, ut et per pietatis viscera in se 
cceterorum-infirmitatem transferal, et per speculationis 
altitudinem seipsum quoque invisibilia appetendo tran- 
scendat, ne aut alta petens proximorum infrma despi- 
ciat aut infrmis proximorum congruens appetere alta 
derelinquatr — S. Greg., Fastoral I. v. 



Ube IRelioxous /iDan m 



XXVIII 

THE RELIGIOUS MAN 

^^Legem pone mihi, JDomine, viam justificationum 
tuarum^ et exqiiira?n earn semper. Da mihi intelleciujn 
et scrutabor legem tuam^ et custodiam illain in toto 
corde meo^ — Ps. cxviii. 

" Set before me for a law the way of thy justification^ 
O Lord, and I will always seek after it. Give me 
understanding and I will search thy law^ and I will 
keep it with my whole hearth 

HE law by which men's actions are prac- 
tically guided, depends upon what is upper- 
most in their minds and deepest in their 
hearts. With the great majority, the ruling prin- 
ciple, in one shape or another, is self-interest. Their 
great aim in life is pleasure, or position, or power, 
or wealth which may place any or all of the others 
within their reach. 

With a certain number it is something incompar- 
ably higher and greater than self ; it is moral good- 
ness. To avoid what is wrong or unworthy, because 
of its wickedness or unworthiness ; to cultivate virtue 
for its own sake ; to do the right thing chiefly because 




112 Daxis XTbougbts 

it is right ; to sacrifice all else when necessary to 
honor and to dut}^ — such is the endeavor of many 
good men of past and present times. 

Finally, there are those who view their lives, and 
aim at regulating them, principally in the light of 
.their relations with God. To recognize His claims 
upon them, to serve Him, to obey His will in every 
particular, is their great concern. 

To follow the first of these principles, makes the 
worldly man. To obey the second, makes the vir- 
tuous man. To be guided by the third, makes the 
religious man. 

The distinctive character, therefore, of the reli- 
gious man is that, not only in theory, but in practice, 
his life is built on, and regulated by, the thought of 
God. All Christians knov/ that God is ever present 
to them ; that it is His hand that sustains them in 
existence ; that His guiding action extends to what- 
ever may happen them; that they owe Him the 
homage of all they have and are, and that to Him 
they will have to answer for every particular of their 
lives. All know it, but the religious man realizes it, 
and aims at accommodating his life to such a concep- 
tion. This is what distinguishes him from all others. 
In what he does, the worldly man looks to his inter- 
est, the conscientious man to the lav/s of duty, but the 
religious man looks to the will of God. Like Abra- 
ham, he walks in the divine presence ; he remembers 
God, he seeks God, he sees God everywhere. The 
visible world is to him a constant revelation of the 



Zbc IRelfgioiis i^an us 

Divine attributes. In the events of public life, 
where others admit of nothing but the play of 
human passions, or the forces of nature, the reli- 
gious man recognizes, though he may not always be 
able to shov/, a guiding providence ; and in all that 
happens to himself, be it good or evil, he acknowl- 
edges humbly, like Job, the hidden hand of God. 

This is preeminently a Christian type of virtue. 
It contains, or it leads to, what is most distinctive 
in the Gospel. There is something particularly 
humble and subdued in the religious man. Self- 
restraint is natural to him, as is also patience and 
gentleness with others. He is reverent and recol- 
lected in his devotions, in his contact with sacred 
places and things. He is instinctively a man of 
prayer. Living with God, he turns to Him on all 
occasions, leans upon Him ; he mingles prayer with 
his most ordinary actions. 

How fitting is such a spirit and such a form of 
life in priests I The Council of Trent looks for it 
in them: ^'' nihil nisi gi-ave^ moderatum ac 'R.^i.igio^^ 
PLENUM /r^ seferanty The people look for it, too, 
not only at the altar and in the sacred functions 
where its absence would shock them, but in the 
tone, the manner, and language of the priest in 
ordinaiy life. Everywhere he is expected to be 
not only a good man, a kind man, a well-bred man, 
but also a religious man, a man of God. 



Tu autem o homo Dei I ' 



114 H)ail^ XTbouabts 



XXIX 

HOLINESS AND HELPFULNESS 

" Pro eis ego sanctifico meipsumy 

" For them do I sanctify myself ^ — John xvii. 19. 



HE sanctification of which Our Lord 
speaks could not mean for Him what it 
commonly means when applied to men. 
In men there is always room for growth in holi- 
ness ; in Christ there was none. Not only in His 
divinity was He perfectly and essentially holy, but 
also in His humanity from the first hour in which 
it was hypostatically united to a divine person. 
But in Sacred Writ, in which the word ^'sanctifica- 
tion^'' is very frequently met, it almost invariably has 
the meaning of consecration to God, active or 
passive. In this sense it is said that the Lord 
sanctified the seventh day, and that the temple, the 
altar, the vessels used in the sacrifice, and many 
things besides, were sanctified, that is, withdrawn 
from ordinary uses and consecrated to God. In 
the same sense Christ tells us (John x. 36) that He 
himself was sanctified and sent by His Father, that 
is, consecrated as a victim for the salvation of man- 



Doliness an5 Ibelpfulness us 

kind. But now, inasmuch as He freely accepts 
the merciful decree, and resolves to carry it out 
even to the laying down of His life on Calvary, He 
may say, in all truth, that He ^'sanctifies (i.e. de- 
votes) himself,'^ and furthermore, that He sanctifies 
himself '""for them,'^ for his disciples, for all those 
whom He came to save, " that they may ie sanctified 
in truth ;^^ that is, that in Him and through Him 
they may be offered and consecrated to God. 

What Christ did for mankind at large, the priest 
has to do for his people. He has to remember, first 
of all, that it is for them, not for himself, he has 
been chosen, consecrated, anointed, and sent. " For 
every high priest^ says St. Paul (Heb. v. i.), " taken 
from among men^ is ordained for men!''' Next, after 
having been thus sanctified, i.e. devoted, consecrated, 
to the good of others by his very ordination, he re- 
sponds to the divine action by giving himself wholly 
and unceasingly to the same purpose. He is pure 
to make others pure ; he is separated from the world 
to make others unworldly. As Christ takes those 
He has chosen, and presents them with Himself to 
God as a single offering, so the priest identifies 
himself with his flock, bearing them in his hands, 
so to speak, every time he appears before God. 
This he does ostensibly and solemnly as often as 
they gather around him at the holy sacrifice. This 
he repeats each time he recites the breviary. His 
voice is not merely his own ; it is also that of his 



116 Bails ZbovLQbtB 

people united with him in a common act of self-coL 
secration. Every sacrament he confers, every priestb. 
duty he performs, means the same thing, and has 
the same purpose, — to bring his people ever nearer 
to God ; and nearness to God is sanctification itself. 

But in another and more familiar sense of the 
word, the priest should take for his motto the say- 
ing of the Master: " I^or the77i do I sanctify my self. ^^ 
The priest has, indeed, many reasons to strive for 
holiness. His place is in the sanctuary, near to 
God. His life is spent amid holy things. At the 
altar he is as one with Christ himself; in fact, every 
thing he says and does in the performance of his 
sacred duties, calls him back to the law^ of holiness ; 
and he is safe only if he aspires constantly to that 
higher life, at the summit of which stand the saints. 
If he aims merely at what is necessary, he misses it 
and is lost. 

In. the same sense he sanctifies himself for the 
sake of his flock. He is their mediator, and there- 
fore he must hold himself as near as possible to the 
Throne of Mercy. Evidently the more closely he is 
united to God, the more efficacious his prayer is, and 
the more abundant the blessings poured down upon 
those for whom he prays. And the same is true of 
his other functions. The word of God is deserving 
of attention and reverence, whoever preaches it ; 
but what additional weight is added to it by the 
holy life of the preacher ! The sacraments he ad- 
ministers are independent in their essence of his 



Doliness auD Ibelpfulness ii7 

personal qualities; yet how great is the share of 
these in the final result I Of all the qualities which 
may be found in a priest, nothing so much as ex- 
ceptional holiness draws to him those who need his 
help. They gather eagerly around the confessional 
where he sits, aroimd the pulpit where he preaches, 
around the altar where he offers the Divine Victim. 
To the pious priest only, will those appeal who 
aspire to the higher life. For them in a most spe- 
cial manner ^'he sanctifies himself ^^"^ because only on 
that condition can he be really helpful to them. 
Devoid of piety himself, he would ill understand 
them, and still less care to help them in a practical, 
continuous, earnest way ; and so, for their sakes, as 
well as for his own, he studies the ways of divine 
grace ; he meditates, he prays, he practises the vir- 
tues to which he is striving to initiate others; he 
^valks before them in the narrow path which leads 
directly to God. 

" Pro cis ego saiictifico meipsum ut sint et ipsi sajicti- 
ficati in veritate^ 

" Ille modis omnibus ad sacerdotium evehi debet qui 
cunctis carfiis passionibus moriens jam spiritaliter vivit; 
qui ad alie7ia cupienda non ducitur^ sed propria 
largitur ; qui sic studet vivere ut proximorum cor da 
arentia doctrincB valeat fluentis irrigare. Si homo 
apud homifiem de quo 7ni7iim'e prcesumit fieri intercessor 
e?'ubescit, qua me7ite apud Deum intercessionis loc7im 
propopulo arripit qui familiarem se ejus gratice esse 
per vitce merit U77i 7iescitV'' — S. Greg., Past, i. lo. 



118 2)afl^ Ubougbts 




XXX 

THE PRIEST A SOLDIER 

" Labora sicut bo7ius miles Christi JesuP 
^^ Labour as a good soldier of Christ Jesus,'*^ — 
2 Tim. ii. 3. 

HE priest is more than once compared by 
St. Paul to a soldier ; and rightly, for the 
more of the soldier there is in him, the 
better priest he is. 

At first sight, nothing seems more opposed than 
the two callings, but a closer examination reveals 
the fact that several of their leading features are the 
same. The same general conditions of life are 
found in both, and the same qualities are required. 

I. The priest, like the soldier, once engaged is 
no longer free ; he is no longer at liberty to forsake 
his profession, and to turn to any of the pursuits of 
life which were previously open to him. He cannot 
even combine them, to any extent, v/ith the duties 
he has assumed. " No man.^^ says St. Paul (ibid), 
bei7ig a soldier to God, entangleth himself with secular 
business r That is, he has no right to do so. The 
soldier has ceased to belong to himself. His very 



XCbe iPriest a Sol&ler ii9 

life is not his own. The Roman soldier that St. 
Paul had in mind was separated from family, kin- 
dred, home, country; indeed, everywhere the sol- 
dier's life is a life of detachment. In active warfare 
he has to hold himself always in readiness ; at any 
time he may be called upon to face certain death. 
And therefore he is best without a family. If he 
has left behind him persons tenderly loved, it is not 
good that he should give them much thought ; such 
memories would unman him. In a word, the life of 
a soldier in active service is a life of detachment, of 
self-devotion; a ready gift of his energies, and, if 
need be, of his life, to the service of his country. 

What else is the life of a priest, if he be true to 
his calling ? His time, his energies, his influence, 
all his gifts, belong to the great purpose for which 
he became a priest. Like St. Paul, he is ready to 
give his very life for it: '' I most gladly will spends 
aiid be spent myself^ for your souls P — 2 CoR. xii. 15. 

2. The qualities of the soldier are no less neces- 
sary in the priest, — courage, endurance, discipline. 
The true soldier is the type of courage. He is fear- 
less in presence of danger, or, if fear is awakened in 
him, he does not yield to it, else he v/ould be branded 
as a cov/ard. But his courage is only occasionally 
appealed to, whereas \l\s power of endurance is taxed 
at every hour. Long marches, scanty provisions, 
excessive heat or cold, lack of shelter, sickness, 
— these are what try the soldier much more than 
facing the enemy. This is why St. Paul does not 



120 Dails Ubougbts 

say: '^ Have courage; be brave;'''' but ''''suffer hard- 
ship^^'' for such is the meaning of the Greek term, 
KaK07rd6r)(T0Vf rendered in the Vulgate by the word 
labora. Last of all, but not least, discipline. In 
the Roman army discipline was of the strictest kind, 
and the oath of obedience (sacramentum) was looked 
upon as the most sacred of all. In man, as in 
nature, only disciplined power is useful. Uncon- 
trolled, it wastes itself, and often proves destructive. 

Courage, too, is a requirement of the priesthood ; 
physical courage sometimes, moral courage always. 
To be faithful to duty, at any cost ; to live up to his 
convictions whatever others may say ; to speak out 
for the right, to censure and to oppose what is 
wrong ; to carry out necessary but unpopular meas- 
ures; to face the risk of being misunderstood or 
blamed, or to forfeit certain advantages sooner than 
relinquish a useful purpose, — all this is necessary 
in the priest, and it means in all cases true moral 
courage. 

The power of endurance is not less necessary. 
The life of a priest, if he strives to meet all the 
requirements of his position, is generally a tr}dng 
one. His mission may be what is called a hard one. 
The demands upon his physical strength m^ay be 
as much as he can bear. His patience is tried in 
numberless ways. Among those with whom he is 
placed in contact, there are the thoughtless, the 
unreasonable, the obstinate, the deceitful, the self- 
ish, the ungrateful; he has to bear with all, and 



Ube priest a Sol&fec 121 

strive by dint of gentleness and forbearance to win 
them to Christ. 

Finally, his life has to be one of order, of rule, of 
discipline. In many things he is left to his own 
initiative ; but in a still larger number he is under 
rule, — the rule of the Gospel and the rules of the 
Church. His action as a priest is individual in one 
sense, in another it is collective, that is, associated 
with the action of the Church herself and of her 
representatives. In both it is equally withdrawn 
from caprice and subject to law. 



^' It is the soldier^s pride to fight for his king ; what 
an honor to be the soldier of Christ ! But if ca7n' 
paigning means endurance^ he who endureth not is no 
soldier^ — Chrys. in 2 Tim. 



122 H)afli? Ubougbts 



XXXI 

THE SAVING POWER OF THE PRIEST 

" Vos estis sal terrce,^^ 

" You are the salt of the earth J^ — Matt. v. 13. 



ALT is used everyv/here for two chief pur- 
poses, — to give savor to food, and to 
preserve it from corruption. Under this 
latter aspect it is introduced by Our Saviour in the 
Sermon on the Mount. Two things are imphed in 
His words : " You are the salt of the earth^''^ (a) that 
the world, that is mankind, is prone to corruption ; 
and (d) that those whom He addresses, that is. His 
followers, and, in an especial manner His apostles, 
are destined to counteract that evil tendency, and 
preserve the world from debasement and ultimate 
ruin. 

That in human nature, and in whatever proceeds 
from it, there is a constant tendency to corruption, 
is a fact which nobody is tempted to question. Not 
mere decay or loss of power and vitality, but posi- 
tive corruption ; that is, a substitution of what is 
evil for what is good. In every individual there is 



Ubc Saving power of tbe fittest 123 

a manifold propensity to wickedness which has to 
be kept under severe discipUne. In human society, 
principles, ideals, habits, tend of themselves to 
degenerate ; nor does the Church herself, because 
of the human elements which enter into her con- 
stitution, escape from the common law. She has 
passed through periods of deep debasement; and, 
even when at her best, she is conscious of carrying 
within her the germs of infection which, if allowed 
to develop, would prove fatal to her. 

There are many forces at work to counteract this 
tendency to evil wherever found. There is the en- 
lightened self-interest of the individual and of the 
community ; there is public opinion ; there is the 
moral sense and the voice of conscience in every 
human soul. Now, all these are good and useful, 
and should be welcomed. But whether separate or 
united, they have always proved lamentably insuf- 
ficient ; since, in spite of them, all the human race 
had gone from bad to worse up to the coming of 
Christ, and has continued to do so wherever He is 
not known. His Gospel only and its blessed influ- 
ence, His Church and her ministrations, have stayed 
the world in its downward course ; and only they 
can continue to save it from intellectual, moral, and 
social ruin. 

This heavenly work of preservation is shared in 
by all God's faithful children. By their principles 
and by their actions they are a public, perpetual, 
effective protest against the false doctrines and the 



124 Bail^ Ubougbts 

wicked ways of the world. And that this is part of 
their calUng, — that they, too, are meant to be ^^ the 
salt of the earth ^^"^ — is a truth of which they should 
be frequently reminded. 

But the saying of Our Lord, " You are the salt of 
the earth^^'' was obviously meant, above all, for His 
apostles and their successors in the ministry of the 
New Law. It is the special vocation of every priest 
to be the preserver and guardian of v/hat is most pre- 
cious in man, — integrity of principle, and purity of 
conscience. He is the divinely appointed protector 
of souls at every period of life, — in childhood, in 
youth, in manhood and womanhood, in old age. 
His first concern is to preserve from all taint of 
evil the individual souls committed to his care. 
But his solicitude goes far beyond. It embraces 
the whole community with which he is connected, 
the parish, the diocese, the country at large. He 
labors by his private influence and by his public 
action to counteract the tendency to dishonesty, to 
deceit, to the unscrupulous pursuit of gain so uni- 
versally prevalent, and to maintain in every sphere 
the principles of private integrity, of social propriety, 
and of sincere devotion to the public good. 

But the priest can do much more. The power is 
given him not only to preserve but to purify. What 
salt cannot effect on tainted meats, he can effect on 
tainted souls. He can destroy the work of corrup- 
tion, and restore them to their original integrity. 

All this he is sent among men to do day after day, 



Ubc Saping power ot tbe priest 125 

to the end of his Hfe. But he can do it only on one 
condition, — that he himself retain within him the 
consecrating and purifying principles of truth and 
goodness. For if he keep them not, he is power- 
less to impart them ; and, short of a Divine inter- 
position, he cannot, once he has lost them, ever 
recover them himself. Thus he becomes worthless 
as a priest, worthless as a man. Such is the solemn 
warning given by Our Lord Himself: ''Buf if the 
salt lose its savour wherewith shall it be salted 2 It 
is good for nothing any more but to be cast out, and to 
be trodde7i on by meii^ 

Such is the unhappy lot of a priest who has lost, 
and is known to have lost, the integrity of faith or 
of life in a measure which unfits him for his work. 
There is no place for him in the priesthood, and 
there is no place for him in the world. He becomes 
an outcast to the Church and to his fellow-men, 
almost as unfit for secular as for clerical duties, 
compelled to hide his character as his only chance 
of being tolerated, and, whenever discovered, sure 
to be despised, shunned, and " trodden on by men'^ 
" Ad 7iihilum valet ultra nisi ut conculcetur ab homi- 
nibusT 

" Si sal sumus, C07idire mentes fidelium debemus. 
Quasi inter bruta amimalia petra salis debet esse 
sacerdos ifi populis ut quisque sacerdoti jungitur quasi 
e salis petra ceternce vitce sapore condiatur. " — St, 
Greg., Jlom, xvii. 



126 2)ailp ZbowQUs 



XXXII 

YOUNG PRIESTS 

" Nemo adolescentiam tuam contemnatP 

" Let no man despise thy youth, ^^ — i. Tim. iv. 12. 




HERE are duties of the priest to which 
early manhood is by no means unsuited : 
the religious instruction of children, for 
example, and their moral and spiritual training ; or, 
again, the bearing of divine truth to distant lands, 
and, in general, what entails most hardship, and de- 
mands most power of physical endurance, in the 
missionary life. Yet it must be admitted that, taken 
as a whole, the functions of the priesthood call for 
ripeness of years. In the pulpit the priest has not 
only to convey to his hearers a correct notion of the 
Christian doctrine, a thing he may do equally well 
at any age, but also to apply the law of duty to the 
various circumstances and conditions of life, to ad- 
vise, to caution, to reprove, to condemn; all of which 
imply maturity, weight of authority, such as ordi- 
narily comes with years. In the tribunal of penance 
he has to listen to disclosures of great delicacy ; to 
elicit them, when necessary, from all, regardless of 



l^onxxQ iPriests 127 

condition or age or sex. It is his privilege to enter 
into the deepest secrets of souls. Like the family 
physician, or the family lawyer, he is intrusted with 
matters of which all the rest of the world remains in 
ignorance. He sits as a judge, deciding questions 
in which the interests, nay, the abiding happiness 
of his penitent, and, indirectly, the happiness of 
others, may be involved. He has to guide through 
intricate paths, and show how to face the most 
critical emergencies. 

All this naturally demands experience, refined wis- 
dom ; and hence it is that where priests abound, the 
age at which they are admitted to hear confessions 
(except those of children) comes much later than 
the canonical age for the priesthood. In certain 
religious societies ordination itself is delayed, because 
the celebration of the Sacred Mysteries is something 
so solemn that it seems incongruous to intrust it 
to one barely emerging from youth into manhood. 
It is as old, not as young, that the popular imagina- 
tion pictures to itself the priest of God ; and poets 
and painters, who are wont to represent things in 
their ideal forms, invariably portray him as advanced 
in years. 

There is, therefore, a real absence of harmony, 
in the young priest, between the number of his years 
and the nature of his principal duties, and a con- 
sequent peril of what S. Paul apprehended in the 
case of Timothy : a lack of trust and of reverence on 
the part of the faithful. " JVemo adolesccntiam tuam 



128 2)ails Ubougbts 

C07item7iatP And yet the Church, yielding to the 
practical requirements of her work, has always 
admitted, and will doubtless continue to admit, 
young men to the character and to all the functions 
of the sacred office. But then she knows that years 
are not everything ; that there may be a dignified 
youth, as there may be a silly old age ; and that a 
grace of a divine vocation may supply, before the 
time, w^hat is commonly the fruit of years. 

What may deprive a young priest of the reverence 
and trust of the f aitliful ? The faults of boyhood : 
levity, thoughtlessness, immaturity, precipitancy, an 
inordinate love of sports and games, a lack of 
repose. 

What makes a young priest respected ? Serious- 
ness of manner, maturity of thought, earnestness of 
purpose, steadiness in carrying out all that apper- 
tains to duty ; also, learning, piety, enlightened zeal, 
self-respect, a sense of authority tempered by mod- 
esty : " auctoritas modesta, '' as the Pontifical says in 
the rite of ordination ; finally, the religious spirit, 
that is, the spirit of reverence imparting a tone of 
thoughtfulness and deliberation to the whole man. 
Each of these helps to dispel the unfavorable im- 
pression which might attach to the youthful priest, 
and therefore it becomes his duty to cultivate them 
sedulously in the early years of his ministry. To 
the buoyancy and enthusiasm of youth, which he 
should strive to retain, he has to add the gravity, 
the dignity, the repose, of old age : " cujus probata 



J^ouuQ priests 129 

vita senedus sit^ And thus the number of his years 
will be lost to sight, and the faithful will see, listen 
to, and love in him the man of God. 



Vide quomodo oporteat sacerdotem imperai'e et cum 
aucto7'itate loqui, Conte?nptibilis est juventus ex praeju- 
dicata opinione ; idea dicit Apostolus : " Ne77io adolescen- 
tiam tuam conteTunaty Oportet enim doctor em non 
esse contemptui. In rebus quae ad se solum spectant, 
conteinnatur et id ferat ; in iis vero quae ad alios spec- 
tant, non item. Hie 7ion modestia opus est sed auctori- 
tate^ ne id gregi noceat, — Chrysost. in i Tim,, 
Horn, xiii. 



130 2)ail^ Ubougbts 



XXXIII 

CARRYING THE CROSS 

" Si guts vult post me venire^ abneget seipsum, tollat 
crucem suam et sequatur me^ 

" If any man will come after me^ let him deny him- 
self and take up his cross and follow meH^ — Matt. 
xvi. 24. 



HE original sense of these words has more 
or less disappeared in the subsequent ex- 
tension given them, and in their moral 
applications. They were spoken by Our Lord a 
short time before His passion and death, when He 
had begun to acquaint His followers explicitly with 
what awaited Him in Jerusalem : " From that tifne^^^ 
says St. Matthew in this same place (xvi. 21), ^^fesus 
began to show to His disciples that He must go to ferusa- 
le7n and suffer many things . . . and be put to death J'^ 
'^ And He spoke the word openly ^^"^ adds St. Mark. St. 
Peter, shocked by such a prospect, makes bold to 
expostulate v/ith Him privately, and exclaims : '' God 
forbid that any such thing should happen Thee^ Where- 
upon Christ rebukes him for his worldly thoughts. 
Far from being an obstacle, the sufferings and death 



Carrstng tbe Cross isi 

of his Master will be the salvation and life of the 
v/orld, and even the source of His own glory, as, later 
on, He told the disciples of Emmaus : " Ought not 
Christ to have suffered these things^ and so to enter His 
glory ? " — Luke xxiv. 26. 

And this is a law for all. 

To suffer and to die is as nothing compared with 
eternal happiness, and whoever is not prepared to 
make the sacrifice is unfit to receive the reward. 
This Our Lord resolved to proclaim aloud and to 
make known to all. So, ''calling the multitude to- 
gether, "^^ says St. Mark, " with his disciples, He said to 
them : If any man will come after me, let him deny 
himself and take up his cross and follow me,^^ That is : 
" I am about to die a cruel and ignominious death, 
and those who claim to belong to Me have to be 
prepared to meet the same fate ; some as a reality, 
the others as a possibility, which they must be dis- 
posed to accept at any time, sooner than cease to be 
loyal to me. They may have to choose between the 
present life and the future. To save the one may 
mean to sacrifice the other." In that case " whoever 
shall save his life shall lose it, and he that shall lose 
his life for My sake shall find it^ 

This supremacy over all else of faith, of the Gos- 
pel, of the new life, of the kingdom of God, of Christ 
Himself as the concrete embodiment of it all, Jesus 
had already proclaimed again and again, as when He 
spoke of the "pearl of great price, ^'' to purchase which 
the merchant parts with all he has ; or, again, of the 



132 £)atlg ZdovlqUb 

closest bonds of nature to be broken for His sake : 
" Ife that loveth father or mother more than Me is not 
worthy of Me, And he that loveth so?i or daughter 
more than Me is not worthy of Me, And he that 
taketh not up his cross and foUoweth Me is not worthy 
of Mey — Matt. x. 37: to which He adds: " /Z^ 
that findeth his life shall lose it, and he that loseth his 
life shall find it,''^ thus showing the sense in which 
His cross is referred to. In St. Luke (ix. 23) it is 
spoken of as having to be borne daily : " tollat cru- 
cem siiam quotidie ; but this, inapplicable to actual 
death, is perfectly intelligible as understood of an 
abiding readiness to die for the cause of Christ. 
Hence the conclusion of Maldonatus (in chap. x. 
Matt.) : ^' Tolle7'e crucem suam nihil aliud est quam 
paratum esse pro Christo non quoquo inodo niori, sed 
etiam crucifigi, sicut Pet r us dixit ' Domine, tecirm paratus 
sum et in carce7'e77i et in 77iortem ire,'' " and, naming St. 
Chrysostom and several others who understand it 
of that cross, ^^ qua 7nundo mortui esse debemus,'^ he 
says, " magis moralis est quam litter alis,^'' 

This " moral sense " has, it must be confessed, 
been much more dwelt upon in the church than 
the literal, and that almost from the beginning. 
The cross of Christ was looked upon as the symbol 
of His sufferings, and to bear one's cross came 
to signify to suffer for Him and rv^ith Him. Thus, 
instead of a mere disposition to face any sacrifice, 
even death, rather than be unfaithful to Christ, the 
bearing of the cross was made to signify a daily 



Carrping tbe Cross i33 

practice of religious devotion recommended to, and 
in some measure expected of, all true Christians. 

In describing the manner of performing this duty, 
the Fathers follow freely their personal inspirations. 
" Tollit crucem suam^'^^ says St. Jerome, ^' qui mundo 
crucifigitury " Duobus modis,'^^ says St. Gregory, 
" crux tollitur cum aut per abstinentiam afficitur cor- 
pus^ aut per compassionem proximi affligitur animus;'''^ 
and he gives St. Paul as an example of both, 
" castigo corpus meum . . . quis mfirmatur et ego non 
infirmorr Indeed, bearing the cross came gradu- 
ally, with spiritual writers, to signify every kind of 
suffering entailed by Christian duty, or assumed in 
a Christian spirit. 

In keeping with this view, we may distinguish 
three kinds of crosses, according as they are borne 
by necessity, or by duty, or by the free choice of 
the bearer. 

1. There are imavoidable crosses^ i.e., privations, 
sufferings, trials, which we cannot escape even if we 
would. We have to bear them submissively^ be- 
cause they come from God; htanbly^ because we 
deserve them; chee7^fully^ because they are bless- 
ings in disguise, and help to bring us nearer to God 
and liken us to Christ. 

2. There are obligatory crosses w^hich it is in our 
power to shake off our shoulders, but conscience 
forbids ; unwelcome duties which we are bound to 
perform, pleasures inviting but unlawful. Such 
crosses we have to accept loyally, and bear them 
bravely and perseveringly. 



134 2)ail^ ZbowQhtB 

3. There are voluntary crosses^ which neither out- 
ward necessity nor the inward voice of conscience 
imposes, but vv^hich we know to be welcome to our 
Divine Master ; and these we take up lovingly as a 
free homage offered to Him to whom we would 
gladly give the whole world and what it contains if 
we owned it. To these correspond the great sacri- 
fices and austerities of the saints, — deeds of love 
offered with joy, which all Christians should look up 
to with sincere admiration, and strive, at least in 
some measure, to imitate. 



" To bear the cross, to love the cross^ to chastise the 
body and bring it under subjection ; to fly honors^ to 
love to suffer insults^ to despise 07ie V self and wish to be 
despised ; to bear all adversities and losses, and to desire 
no prosperity in this world; — all this is not according 
to man^s natural inclination^ 

" Set thyself then like a good and faithful servant of 
Christ, to bear manfully the cross of Thy Lord for the 
love of Him who was crucified for thee^ — Imit. ii. 12. 



IPfets 135 



XXXIV 

PIETY 



^^ Exerce teipsum ad pietatem?^ 

*^ Exercise thyself unto godliness,'*' — i Tim. iv. 7. 




BHE word ^^ piety ^^ {pietas, eva-i^euC), is sus- 
ceptible of many meanings. With the 
ancient Greeks and Romans, it signi- 
fied primarily the love of parents and of comitry. 
From earthly objects, this disposition to reverence 
and to active service naturally extended itself to 
God, the original source of all blessings and bene- 
fits, and became a religious homage, as St. Thomas 
explains (2.2. q ci. a 3): ^^ ea quce sunt creatur- 
arum per quamdam super excellentiam et causalitatem 
transferuntur in Deum ; unde per excellentiam pietas 
cultus Dei nominatur^ Thus understood, piety is 
the same as what in modem language we call 
the religious feeling; it is what the schoolmen 
would call a function, if not the substance of the 
virtue of Religion. In this sense we find it used 
in the Old, and still more frequently in the New 
Testament. In the language of St. Francis de 
Sales, and of other spiritual writers, the word devo- 
tion was meant to express the same thing. 



136 Bails Ubougbts 

By piety, therefore, we understand a disposition 
of the soul drawing it to do homage to God, and 
to busy itself with what is directly meant to honor 
Him. But the principle from which this disposition 
proceeds may be different. In some it is mainly a 
sense of duty or propriety, or a view of the benefits 
accruing to those who, unsustained by any sensible 
pleasure or enjoyment in the practices themselves, 
are nevertheless faithful to them; while in others 
the spontaneous attraction is such as to render all 
other motives unnecessary. The distinction, in- 
deed, is not peculiar to piety ; it applies to all the 
Christian virtues, even to charity itself. In all 
there is a rational side, dependent on the will ; and 
an emotional side, dependent on the feelings. Some 
are moved chiefly by the former, others by the 
latter. In popular language the former are said to 
be religious, the latter pious. The truth is, in the 
Christian soul both elements are present, only in 
different proportions. 

The truly pious soul has her characteristic fea- 
tures. She loves prayer; she is assiduous in the 
practices of devotion, such as meditation, assistance 
at the Holy Sacrifice, frequent communion, and the 
like. She has a taste for spiritual books, and enjoys 
the Lives of the Saints. She is instinctively led 
to devotion towards them, and in a most special 
manner to devotion towards the Blessed Mother of 
God. She loves to visit and to adorn their shrines, 
and sdll more the Altar and the tabernacle. 



IPiets 137 

Piety as proceeding from the will is a virtue ; as 
a spontaneous impulse it is a gift, — a gift of nature 
in some, in others a gift of grace. 

There are those who are naturally pious ; that is, 
whose physical temperament or psychological struc- 
ture leads them, almost without eifort or guidance, 
to the above-mentioned practices. Others are pious 
because God has made them so, supplying by His 
grace what is necessary to turn their affections 
heavenwards, and make them instinctively delight 
in holy things. 

From whatever source piety comes, be it nature, 
or grace, or both, as usually happens, it should be 
assiduously cultivated and its promptings gladly 
welcomed : 

First, because it is a great help, as is evident, to 
faithfulness in the service of God. We are weak, 
and should readily lay hold of whatever facilitates 
the performance of any of our obligations. Now, 
just as the natural affection of children for their 
parents makes the performance of their filial duties 
easy and pleasant, so piety sweetens the service of 
God. Piety is in reality a form of love, and love is 
the greatest sustaining power of all (Imit. iii. 5). 

Next, because it gives ease and gracefulness to 
our worship, — an important circumstance for these 
with whom we live. Piety edifies in proportion as 
it is spontaneous. It is attractive chiefly by the 
glow of cheerfulness and brightness that surrounds 
it 



138 H)ails ZbowQbtB 

Finally, piety should be cultivated because it im- 
parts a generous impulse to the soul, and makes 
her capable of much more than she could attain to 
without it. Virtue, when alone, may advance with 
firm step, but piety gives it wings. 

By none should piety be more cultivated and 
cherished than by the priest. Nothing is more 
in keeping with his character and with his duties. 
Nobody comes so near to God ; nobody should so 
much enjoy His presence and His service. The 
priest lives in the midst of holy things ; he knows 
their value ; it is only natural that he should love 
them more than others. That he does so is taken 
for granted by the faithful ; to find him deficient in 
that point would be disappointing and disedifying. 
Besides, he has to exhort, to train souls to piety, so 
far as they are capable of it : how can he do so if 
his own soul is empty ? 



" O how the thought of God attracts^ 
And draws the heart from earthy 
And sickens it of passing shows ^ 
And dissipating mirth I " 



" The perfect way is hard to flesh ; 
It is not hard to love ; 
If thou wert sick for want of God, 
How quickly wouldst thou move 1 '' 

Faber. 



IPreacbfna 139 



XXXV 

PREACHING 

^^ Prxdica Verbum^ 

" / charge thee before God and Jesus Christy who 
shall judge the living and the dead^ preach the word ; 
be instant in season and out of season ; reprove^ entreaty 
rebuke^ with all patience and doctrine^ — 2 Tim. iv. 
I, 2. 

HIS is one of the parting recommendations 
of St. Paul to his beloved disciple Timothy. 
'''The time of my dissolution is at hand^'^ he 
says. ''^ I have fought a good fight ; I have finished my 
course; I have kept the faith ; " and now that he is 
about to depart, he would have Timothy take up the 
burden, continue the work, and pursue it with some- 
thing of the untiring ardor with which he himself 
was filled during the whole course of his apostolate. 
The terms he employs vividly recall his own manner 
of work. They proclaim at the same time what the 
minister of the Gospel has to aim at in ever}^ age. 

Preaching is one of the fundamental duties of the 
priest in charge of souls. It is by his familiar 
catechetical teaching that children are trained in the 
elements of the faith and of the Christian life. It is 



140 Bails Ubougbts 

by his instructions of Sundays and holy days that the 
reUgious knowledge thus acquired is kept up and 
spread among the vast majority of his people. 
Books have superseded oral teaching in most forms 
of knowledge, but not in the knowledge of religion 
and duty. The people continue to get it almost 
entirely through the instructions and exhortations 
of their priests. 

The universal practice of reading has by no 
means destroyed the power of the spoken word. No 
multiplication of books or magazines or daily pa- 
pers, can ever supersede the human voice. People 
are always ready to lay down newspaper or book, 
to go and listen to a man who is at all worth hear- 
ing. It may be that they can endure less dulness 
or dreariness or repetition than in former times ; but 
at no time has the utterance of the living truth by 
the living man been more powerful and more wel- 
come than at the present day. Here, then, is a 
force of incalculable energy placed in the hands of 
priests, of which a strict account will be demanded 
at the judgment seat of God. The question for 
each one will be, not whether he has turned to any 
purpose the power imparted to him ; but whether he 
has done so as fully, as earnestly, as constantly, as 
carefully as he should. A la^vyer is not merely 
expected to do soinething for his clients, or a physi- 
cian for his patients ; they are expected to do the 
best in their power. If they fail to do so, they are 
considered equally lacking in honor and in honesty. 



IPreacbing i4i 



One cannot see why a priest should be judged by 
a different standard. 

To talk merely ; — to say something ; — to fill up 
the time, is easy enough, and only too many think 
it good enough for their hearers, but the hearers do 
not agree with them. 

To get off sermons ready made is not so bad, 
because after all there is a selection, a purpose, 
and an effort. But such discourses as they stand 
are seldom adapted to the needs of an audience 
different from that for which they were originally 
meant. Sermons are like clothes : to fit well they 
have to be made to measure. 

In reality most priests have in themselves all that 
is necessary to preach w^ell. They know the doc- 
trines of the faith ; they know hov/ to accommodate 
them to ordinary minds ; they know the duties of 
their people, and are able to explain them in detail ; 
they know the difficulties with Vv^hich they have to 
contend, the temptations which beset them, the 
defeats they suffer, and the victories they win. They 
are in daily, hourly contact with them, looking down 
into their very souls, and w^atching there the endless 
struggle between fallen nature and divine grace. 
What need is there of anything more to give fresh- 
ness, originality, life, to what they say ? 

But this is so only on condition that enough is 
done to make all these resources available. Good 
preaching means much labor. To take full posses- 
sion of the component elements of the discourse ; to 



142 s^aili? XrF30Ufibts 

arrange them in proper order ; to give each its due 
expansion and proportionate fulness ; to brighten 
and beautify them by the usual resources of rhetoric ; 
to prove solidly ; to exhort forcibly ; " /^ reprove, 
entreat, rebuke with all patience and doctrine,^'' — all 
this cannot be done without much thought and 
serious preparation, remote and proximate. The 
very lack of culture in the hearers, which dispenses 
the preacher from a certain kind of care, entails 
upon him additional care in other ways. He has to 
bring down his teachings to a more accessible level, 
to use a vocabulary more intelligible, without being 
vulgar or trivial, to be more abundant in illustra- 
tions, more dramatic and striking in the presentation 
of his thoughts. The work, besides, thus begun has 
to be kept up to the end, even by the very best of 
speakers, under pain of their lapsing into mere 
verbosity and iteration. 

Nor is the preparation all. The best of sermons 
may be spoiled, and the worst, in a measure, 
redeemed by the delivery. The power of delivery 
is a gift to cultivate. Natural imperfections should 
be steadily combated ; they may never disappear 
entirely ; but they will be covered to a great extent 
by three Christian virtues, — faith, humility, charity. 
A preacher whose soul is full of faith and love, and 
who, in his concern for his hearers, forgets himself, 
is almost sure to speak well. 



purfts ot Untention 143 



XXXVI 

PURITY OF INTENTION 

^'Attendite ne justitiam vestram faciatis coram Jwrni- 
nibus ; alioquin mercedem non habebitis aptid Fatrefn 
vestrum qui in cceHs estT 

" Take heed that you do not your justice before men^ 
to be seen by them; otherwise you shall not have a 
reward of your Father who is in heaven^ — Matt. 
vi. I. 

HRIST here points out one of the most 
ordinary ways in which our actions lose 
their moral value and miss their reward ; 
and that is, doing them to win the good opinion of 
others. Behind our every action there is a motive, 
an end we aim at. The action is the means to that 
end. The end may be good, bad, or indifferent. 
There are some actions whose end can hardly be 
anything but good ; others whose end is necessarily 
bad ; but the immense majority are such that they 
may be animated by intentions of any kind, and, as 
a fact, have behind them a great variety of inten- 
tions or ends inspiring the same action, some of 
which may be good, others indifferent, or positively 
evil. Thus I may give charity in view of God, and 




1^4 Wall's TLbonQhts 

at the same time for the pleasure I experience in 
giving (wliich is indifferent), or for the purpose of 
being considered generous, which is vain and un- 
worthy. The higher motives generally require an 
effort; the worthless motives come of themselves, 
and their constant tendency is to supersede the 
others, or to mingle so freely and largely with them 
as to make the action principally their ovm. Now, 
so far as they succeed in this, they deprive it of its 
moral value. 

And therefore it is that our Lord again and 
again warns us against such a danger. In the 
present instance he borrows an example from each 
of the three great spheres of duty : God, the 
neighbor, and self, — prayer, alms-giving, and fast- 
ing. Beginning by the second He says : "If f/^oi^ 
dost an alms-deed^ sound not thy trumpet ; '' call not 
the attention of others to it; dread eve?i self-complacency 
awakened by thy action^ and try to hide the good deed 
eveiifrom thyself *^ Let not thy left hand hiow what 
thy 7'ight hand doeth^ The same law he applies 
to prayer : " Whefi ye pray^ be not as the hypocrites 
that love to sta7id and pray in the sy7iagogues and 
corners of the streets, that they may be seen by me7i. 
But thou, whe7i thou shall pray, e7iter i7iio thy cha7nber, 
and having shut the door, pray to thy Father i7i sec7^etr 
Finally he says, '• lVhe7i you fast, be not like the hypo- 
C7'ites who disfigure their faces that they 7nay appear 
Ufito 7ne7i to fast. But thou a7ioi7it thy head and 
wash thy face,^^ etc. 



purity ot Untentlon 145 

The same spirit runs through the whole teaching 
of Christ, — the paramount importance of the inner 
principle. The absence of it in the Pharisees is 
the cause of their condemnation ; its presence gives 
to the widow's mite a value in His eyes superior to 
that of the offerings of all the others. " This poor 
widow hath cast i7i more than they allP 

Rectitude of intention means the presence of worthy- 
motives ; purity of inte7ition means the absence of 
lower motives, or, at least, their relative unimpor- 
tance, and a constant endeavor to exclude them. 

There are few men who need to be watchful in 
this regard more than priests. Their work is ad- 
mirable. They spend their days in performing and 
in preparing for the highest and holiest duties. Yet 
it is possible for them to bring all down to a low 
human level ; in fact, it is their daily peril to do 
so. What should be performed for the love of God 
alone and for the love of souls, they are tempted to 
do through worldly or even unworthy m^otives, such 
as vanity, cupidity, ambition, and the like. How 
many, alas 1 who stand high in the esteem of their 
fellow-men would find their lives hollow and worth- 
less if weighed in the balance of God's judgments 1 
If they would see it with their own eyes, they need 
only take up what fills their days and their weeks, 
and, looking beneath the surface, discover what sus- 
tains it all. Let them set aside what is done through 
a mere natural sense of propriety, or in obedience 
to public opinion, and a dread of its censure, or 



146 H)atls XTbougbts 

through vanity, — the wish to be well thought of, 
to do themselves credit, to do better than others, 
to win the favor of their superiors, or to be popular, 
or for emolument, or for promotion, — let them put 
aside all that ovv^es its existence to such inspirations 
in their daily life, and then see vv^hat rem.ains. How 
many awake only in death to the sense of the empti- 
ness of their lives in the sight of God. " Dor7?iierunt 
somnum suum, et nihil invenerunt divitiaruvi in 
manibus suisT — Ps. Ixxv. 6. 



" Son^ I must he thy supreme and ultimate end if 
thou desirest to be truly happy. By this i^itention shall 
thy affections be purified which too often are irregularly 
bent upon thyself a7id things created, 

^''Principally^ therefore^ refer all things to me ^ for it 
is I that have given thee all" — Imit, ill. 9. 



Ube Barren fig^Zvcc 147 




XXXVII 

THE BARREN FIG-TREE 

" Utquid etiam terram occupat *' 

" Why cumbereth it the ground ?" — Luke xiii. 7. 

[[FRUIT-TREE is planted and cultivated for 
the fruit it is expected to bear. If, not- 
withstanding the suitableness of the soil, it 
is weak or stunted in growth, or if, having reached 
its full size, it proves barren, it only remains for the 
cultivator to remove it, and to plant another in its 
place. In this familiar mode of action Our Lord 
tells us that we have a picture of God's dealings 
with men. " Every tree^^^ says He in the Sermon on 
the Mount, " thatbringeth not forth good fruit shall be 
cut down a?id cast into the fire!''' The same lesson is 
brought back and dramatized in the brief parable 
preserved by St. Luke. "^ certain mail had a fig- 
tree planted in his vineyard^ and he came seeking fruit 
on it and found none. And he said to the dresser of the 
vineyard : Behold for these three years I come seeking 
fruit on this fig-tree and find none. Cut it down there- 
fore ; why cumbereth it the ground ? '' 

Individuals, families, nations, laymen, priests, all 



148 2Dail^ ZbowQhts 

are the objects of God's munificence and loving care. 
To all he opens endless possibilities, of which they 
may avail themselves or not. But if they neglect 
them they do so at their peril. There is no grace 
or gift of God without its corresponding responsi- 
bility. One grows with the other. " [/n/o whom 
much is given, of him 7nuch shall he required.''^ — 
Luke xii. 48. God returns, as it were, from time 
to time, to see what has come of His favors ; what 
fruit is borne by those trees which He planted with 
so much care and in so exuberant a soil. 

A serious warning to all, but to none more than 
to the priest. Of him a twofold harvest is expected, 
— one in his ministry, the other in his soul. God 
planted him among His people, to labor for their 
benefit, and to make them rich in good works. He 
has often to ask himself what he can present as the 
result of his labors. So long as he administers the 
sacraments and offers the Divine Sacrifice, the most 
careless and lukewarm of priests can always point 
to some results ; but they will fall short entirely of 
what might have been expected. Like the barren 
fig-tree, he is there, drinking in the sunshine 
from above, and the substance of the soil from 
below, hindering the growth of what would have 
flourished outside his shadow, and having little of 
his own to show but stunted fruits and worthless 
foliage. 

There are priests, alas ! whose ministry has sunk 
to that low level. At one time active and devoted, 



Ube Barren jfia^Uree 149 

they have gradually grown self-indulgent, and shifted 
most of the burden on others. What they retain of 
it is poorly done ; their sermons ill-prepared, their 
children ill-instructed, their sick neglected. The 
societies they started or found established are 
allowed to decline, and finally collapse. The pale 
hue of death is on all their work. Behind this sad 
condition of things, there is the spiritual subsidence 
of the man himself in his private life ; the love of 
comfort and the lack of prayer ; a certain regard, 
perhaps, for outward proprieties, but scarce any- 
thing of the inner spirit. And no wonder ; faith 
has vv^eakened, in obedience to the law that he who 
does not practise what he believes, gradually ceases 
to believe in wdiat he does not practise. 

'• Ut quid terram occupat ? " Why is he left to 
occupy, without profit for himself or for anybody 
else, a position which so many others would fill 
with advantage to all ? It is, perhaps, because 
some soul dear to God is begging, like the vine- 
dresser in the parable, for a respite in his favor ; — 
a little more time, — one more season to recover 
himself, and take up in earnest what he had so long 
neglected. 

If he do so, it is well ; the angels of God will re- 
joice over it. But if not, then, like the barren tree, 
" he shall be cut down^ 

''^ For the earth that drinketh in the rain which cometh 
often upon it^ and bringing forth herbs 7neet for them by 
whom it is tilled^ receiveth blessing from God. But that 



150 2)ail2 XTbouQbts 

which bringeth forth thorns and briers is reprobate and 
very near unto a curse ^ whose end is to be burnty — 
Heb. vi. 78. 

" Quod de judceis dictum^ omnibus cavendum arbitror, 
et nobis maxime ; ne fcecundum Ecclesice locum vacui 
meritis occupemus ; qui fructus ferre debemus internos : 
— fructus pudoris^ fructus mutucB caritatis et amor is. ^'^ 
— Ambros. in Lucam. vii. 



CbtiBVs Sufferings an& ©urs isi 



XXXVIII 

CHRIST'S SUFFERINGS AND OURS 

" Communicantes Christi passionibus^ gaudete^^ 
** If you partake of the sufferings of Christy re- 
joice,^'' — I Peter iv. 13. 

INE of the most striking effects of the com- 
j ing of Christ and of His teachings has 
I been the altered attitude of His followers, 
and, in some measure, of the world at large, towards 
suffering. In one shape or another, suffering is the 
common lot of humanity — man instinctively shuns 
it. Philosophy could only teach him to harden him- 
self against it. But under the influence of the 
Gospel, the civilized world has learned to respect 
it, and the most fervent Christian souls have come 
to love and to welcome it. 

I. " Blessed [that is, happy] " are they who suffer 
persecution for justice'' sake^^^ said Our Lord m the 
Sermon on the Mount, ''for theirs is the Kingdom 
of HeavenP It is the last of the Beatitudes, the 
only one developed and emphasized. " Blessed are 
ye when they shall revile you^ and persecute you, and 



152 Bails ZbouQhtB 

speak all that is evil against you, untruly, for my 
sake,^^ 

To live, to labor, to fight for a noble cause, is 
something that lifts a man high above the com- 
mon level of existence. But to suffer for it, to be 
worsted, to endure the humiliation of defeat, and 
bear it bravely and lovingly, is something higher 
and greater still ; and this was the prospect which 
Christ held out to his followers. " Non est dis- 
cipulus super magistru?n : si me perse cuti sunt et vos 
persequentur.'^ He spoke these words, it is true, to 
His apostles alone, but they in turn, applied them 
to all those whom they had won to the Gospel ; and 
right through their letters we find them taking it for 
granted that whoever chooses to belong to Christ 
will have to suffer for it. " Through many tribula- 
tions^^ says St. Paul (Acts xiv. 21), ''"we must enter 
into the Kingdom of GodP ^' If doing well,^^ says St. 
Peter (i Pet. ii. 20), ^'' you suffer patiently, this is 
thanksworthy before God. For unto this you are 
called, because Christ also suffered for us, leavifig you 
an example that you should follow in His footsteps T 

St. Paul goes farther : he points to suffering as a 
condition and a sign of our divine brotherhood with 
Christ, and shows what follows from it. ^^ If sons, 
heirs also, heirs indeed of God, and joint heirs with 
Christ, yet so if we suffer with Him, that we may be 
also glorified with HimJ^-— Rom. viii. 17. 

This union with Christ, effected by suffering, is 
not merely external or imitative. Christ lives in 



Cbrist 6 Sufferings an6 ®urs io3 

the faithful, and they in Him. He suffered in His 
person, and he continues to suffer in His members. 
Sufferings endured for Him and for His Gospel 
become part of His own sufferings. Hence St 
Paul (2 Cor. vii. 5), speaks of the sufferings of 
Christ as abounding in himself; and again mere 
strikingly: (Col. i. 24), ^^ I rejoice in my siifferi7igs 
for you^ and [thereby] fill up those things that are 
wanting of the suff^e^'-itigs of Christ in my flesh for His 
body^ which is the church,^^ implying thereby that the 
redeeming work of Christ, considered in its entirety, 
is not completed in Himself, but has to be ^filled 
up " in his members, each one helping by his suffer- 
ings to apply the merits of the Redemption, first 
to himself, and then to others. Thus our suffer- 
ings are truly Christ's, as Christ's are ours. What 
we endure, however insignificant, if it be borne in 
a truly Christian spirit, is invested with something 
of the dignity of Christ himself. Whatever we 
freely take upon ourselves is, in so far, a lightening 
of the burden of atonement that weighs on our 
brethren in the faith, and on humanity at large. 
Nothing of it is lost ; and through it, in Christ and 
with Christ, v/e are ever helping to redeem the 
race. 

Such thoughts as these were present to the minds 
of the Saints, sustaining them in a life of universal 
self-denial and voluntary suffering. Most of them 
had very little to atone for in their own present or 
past, yet they led most penitential lives. And they 



154 H)afli? XTbougbts 

did so, first, to expiate the sirxS of others. If pas- 
tors of souls, they made themselves responsible for 
the sins of their people. Like loving fathers, they 
helped to cancel their children's debts. Again, they 
bound themselves more closely to Christ by volun- 
tarily sharing his sufferings. Finally, in the aus- 
terities which they practised, they found not only 
untold facilities for prayer, and for the cultivation 
of charity and of all the other Christian virtues, but 
also a contentment and joy, which strangers to such 
a manner of life have never been able to under- 
stand. 



" If thou carry the cross willingly, it will carry tJiee^ 
and briitg thee to thy desired end, namely, to that place 
where there will be end of siiffering, though here the^-e 
will be no end. If thou carry it unwillingly, thou 
makest it a burden to thee, and loadest thyself the 
more ; a7td, nevertheless, thou must bear it. If thon 
fling away one cross, without doubt thou wilt find 
another, and perhaps a heavier T — Imit. ii. 12. 



mnselfisbness 155 



XXXIX 

UNSELFISHNESS 

** Cum facts prandium noli vocare vicinos divites . . . 
sed voca pauperes^ debiles^ daudos et cxcos.^"^ 

" When thou makest a dinner or a supper^ call not 
thy friends^ nor thy brethren^ nor thy kinsmen^ nor thy 
neighbors who are rich, lest, perhaps, they also invite thee 
■ again, and a recompense be made to thee. But when 
thou makest a feast, call the poor, the mai^ned, the lame, 
and the blind, and thou shall be blessed, because they 
have 7iot wherewith to make thee recompense ; for 
recompense shall be made thee at the resurrection of the 
just, '' — Luke xiv. 12-14. 




HRIST proclaims here what is best in itself, 
but without meaning to condemn what is 
less perfect, or expecting that it shall cease 
to have its place in ordinary human intercourse. In 
the exercise of hospitality, as in all the other relations 
of life, there is room for every degree of excellence, 
from the humblest to the highest. Men act in almost 
all they do from a variety of motives, some clearly 
realized, some vaguely felt, some entirely uncon- 
scious, yet none the less influencing the doer. These 



166 Bailp Ubouobts 

motives impart to the work their moral character, 
according to the measure in which they influence it. 
Consequently the excellence of whatever is done, 
depends on the dignity, the intensity, and the purity 
of the motives from which the action proceeds. 
Motives are pure in proportion as they are unmixed 
with others of baser alloy. Their intensity is 
measured by their moving pov>rer, and their dignity 
by the distance that separates them from self. 

Now, it has to be remembered that man is incapa- 
ble of acting habitually through the highest motives, 
to the exclusion of those less perfect. His nature is 
complex, open on every side to attractions and im- 
pulses which claim their share in his life, and can- 
not be ignored. Each virtue has its special charm, 
each vice its corresponding repulsiveness, both des- 
tined in the order of Providence to sustain him 
in a line of action from which he would be sure to 
swerve if he had nothing but the highest motive — 
that of pure love — to sustain him. This remark 
holds good not only of virtuous motives, but of 
others which in themselves possess no element of 
virtue. Thus we are led by the natural love of 
pleasure, or dread of suffering, to give to our bodies 
the nutriment, the rest, the care, which they require, 
but which would be neglected in most cases, if 
the call of nature were not constantly heard. The 
same natural attraction leads us, in our own interest, 
to the faithful performance of most of our domestic 
and social duties. 



To the latter belongs the practice of hospitality, 
including other similar courtesies of civilized life, to 
which Our Lord refers in the above-mentioned text. 
To invite a man to share one's meal is a mark of 
friendly feeling. He is asked to spend with his host 
an enjoyable hour, and is admitted for the time 
being to the intimacy of his home. The selfish man 
invites his friends under the pressure of opinion, or 
for some selfish end. With the great majority it is a 
question of mixed motives. Men ask their friends 
through a friendly feeling, and at the same time with 
the expectation of some adequate return. The 
moral value of the act depends on the relative pro- 
portion of the t^vo kinds of motives. There is, 
however, a constant peril of the lower becoming 
predominant ; hence the recommendation of Our 
Lord, — couched in extreme form, as was His wont, 
to make it more striking. He did not want to do 
away wdth that habitual exchange of courtesies in 
daily life, which help so powerfully to bring together 
people of the same social condition, and to bind 
them more closely to one another. He knew that 
thereby the better impulses of human nature are 
awakened and brought into play. He knew, too, 
that although kindness when entirely unselfish, is 
best in itself, yet it is not good for anybody to be 
always a mere benefactor. Such a ro/e is too apt to 
beget pride, and even to harden the heart of the 
giver, unless he values much the gratitude of the 
recipient. It is good, also, for the latter that he may 



158 H)alls UbouQbts 

be able to make some return. Humility is a good 
thing, but so is self-respect ; and for the u5es of 
daily life the natural sentiment has as much impor- 
tance as the supernatural virtue. 

The lesson of *the Saviour amounts, therefore, to 
this : " Whenever you do a kindness^ think chiefly of 
those to whom you show //, and as little as possible of 
yourself Be unselfish^ especially in doing what is 
ostensibly and professedly ge7ierous. And in order to do 
so effectively y prefer to be kind to those who can make no 
return,^^ 



" Son^ observe diligently the motives of nature and 
grace . . . Nature is crafty and always proposes self 
as her end^ but grace walketh in simplicity y and doth 
all thing purely for God, 

*' Nature labor eth for its own interests ^ and con- 
sidereth what gain it may derive from another ; but 
grace co?isidereth not what may be advantageous to self 
but rather what may be beneficial to many, 

*^ Nature is covetous and liketh rather to take than to 
give ; bnt grace is kind and open hearted^ is contented 
with little, and judgeth more blessed to give than to 
receiveJ^ — Imit. iii. 54, 



TLM priest's l)appiness 159 



XL 

THE PRIEST^S HAPPINESS 

" jBeafz oculi qui vident quoe vos videtisT 
" Blessed are the eyes which see what you see ; for I 
say to you that many prophets and kings have desired 
to see the things that you see, and have not seen them, and 
to hear the things that you hear^ and have not h^ard 
themy — Luke x. 23, 24. 

IREAT, indeed, was the privilege of the 
Apostles to be admitted to the intimacy of 
the Saviour ; to behold with their eyes 
wonders such as the world had never seen before, 
and to listen to the words of the divine Teacher as 
they fell from His sacred lips, — words which hu- 
manity has since gathered up, and will never cease 
to repeat with reverence and love. Great, also, are 
the privileges of their successors, and happy their 
lot ; for to them, too, it is given to live amid sights 
and scenes full of that heavenly joy, of which the 
outer world catches only rare and rapid glimpses. 

Happy indeed is the life of a priest, but not one of 
unmixed happiness, for such a thing is beyond the 
reach of mortal man. The priest has to bear his 




1^0 Bails Ubongbts 

own share of human sorrow and suffering ; he has, 
also, to take upon himself a good share of the burden 
of others. Nor has he the compensation which the 
worldling finds in the gratification of the senses, or 
in the triumphs of earthly ambitions. Yet an earthly 
reward is not denied him. To be looked up to, to 
be trusted, to be loved, is something highly valued 
even by the best of men. It is much to bring back 
peace and joy to souls that have lived for years 
strangers to one and the other. It is much to devote 
all one's time and energies to the highest and noblest 
of purposes, the moral and spiritual elevation of men. 
From the standpoint of the mere natural man, such 
a life brings its own reward ; how much more when 
all this is seen in the light of faith ! 

I. Nothing helps to give abiding interest to life 
more than the sense of its usefulness. The conscious- 
ness of being helpful to others makes men forget 
themselves in every sphere of society ; and if those 
whom they serve are especially dear to them, they 
can endure much and yet be happy. This may be 
seen in everyday life, in the case of fathers and 
mothers who toil unceasingly, suffer many a privation 
and hardship, and yet never complain, because of 
the comforts and joys they secure to their little ones. 
Men raised to high positions, and charged mth im- 
portant duties, are sometimes so completely absorbed 
by them, that they find little time for rest, and still 
less for enjoyment ; yet they are happier than they 
would be in the life of ease and pleasure they might 



tlbe priest's ft)appiness i6i 

have had. So is it with the priest. Seen in the 
Hght of faith, no existence can compare in usefulness 
with his ; no interests, however great to human eyes, 
can compare with those entrusted to him. Each 
day he goes forth to do the greatest work on earth ; 
all day long he bears in his hands God's dearest 
treasures, the immortal souls of his children. How 
can he be otherwise than happy ? 

2. Each day, too, he witnesses the work of God's 
grace in saints and sinners, and such a vision, con- 
templated in the light of faith, is one of surpassing 
beauty. Nothing is fairer on earth than a pure 
soul ; and each day it is the privilege of the priest 
to look into the transparent depths of children, 
artless and ignorant of evil, still bearing, as it were, 
the recent impress of their baptism ; of others grow- 
ing into youth, yet having lost scarce anything of 
their original innocence, — open, trustful, with a 
wonderful hold on the solemn truths of the faith ; 
of others, again, disturbed already, and clouded by 
temptation, fighting bravely, it may be, yet conscious 
of their weakness, and hastening to shelter them- 
selves under the protecting care and love of their 
divinely ordained defender. What a privilege to 
watch over them I What a joy to preserve them 
from evil ! 

3. Yet greater still is the privilege and the joy of 
raising them up when wounded in the battle of life, 
and bearing them away, and nursing them back 
rgain into health and vigor. The physician who, 



162 Bails xrbouabts 

by dint of knowledge and thought and care, has 
rescued a fellow-man from the jaws of death, and 
restored him to his family, is, indeed, a happy man; 
but how much more the priest who, by patient, loving 
care, and by the pov/er which he possesses from 
above, brings back, day after day, the foolish child, 
the wayward son, the prodigal, unfaithful husband, 
to their homes, — the wandering souls to God I Our 
Lord himself describes that joy under the familiar 
and graceful image of the shepherd eager in the pur- 
suit of the lost sheep. ^' And when he hath found it 
lays it upon his shoulders rejoicing ; and coming home 
calls together his f7'iends and neighbors^ saying to them : 
Rejoice with me because I have found my sheep that 
was lost, " — Luke xv. 5. 

Every day the priest is the guide of the unen- 
lightened and of the perplexed, the helper of the 
needy, the comforter of the sick and of the afflicted, 
the refuge of all who suffer and are tried. Like his 
Master, " he goes about ^^^ all day long, ^' doing good 
and healing all^ for God is with him^ — Acts x. 38. 

4. " God is with himP He is God's representative, 
God's messenger. He is the friend of Our Lord : 
''''jam 7ion dicam vos servos^ vos autem dixi amicos^ 
He is admitted to the altar on terms of the closest 
intimacy with Him. He is made a sharer in His 
divine power ; he is the dispenser of His treasures. 
His life is a life of unceasing, though unseen, 
miracles. 



XTbe priest's Ibappiness i63 

O that v/e should always see it, reverence it, love 
it, enjoy it thus ! 



" Attende quod facit foenerator : minus vult dare et 
plus accipere ; hoc fac et tu. Da modica^ accipe mag?ia. 
Da temporalice accipe ceterna. Da terram^ accipe 
ccelum,''^ — Aug. in Fsalm xxxvi. 



164 S)afls ZbOMQbtB 



XLI 

SUCCESS 

^^ Multi dicent mihi in ilia die: Domine^ Domine^ 
no fine in nomine tuo prophetavimus^ et in nomine tuo 
dcemonia ejecimus^ et in nomine tuo virtutes multas 
fecimus ? Et time confitebor illis : quia nunquam 
novi vosy 

^' Many will say to me in that day : Lord, Lord, 
have we not prophesied in thy name, and cast out devils 
in thy name, and do?te ma?ty miracles in thy na7ne ? 
And then will L profess ufito them : I never knew you ^ 
— Matt. vii. 22, 23. 



HE day which the Saviour speaks of here 
and on many other occasions under the 
emphatic designation of '^ that day, "^^ is the 
day of judgment, when, by the divine power, all 
delusion will be dispelled, and the reality of things 
revealed to each one as regards himself and others. 
But it is not so easy to see who are the " many " 
to whom Our Lord refers. Doubtless His thought 
goes forth and embraces, as usual, the whole sub- 
sequent history of man; but by His ordinary methods 
of teaching we are led to suppose that He refers 



Success 165 



primarily to things belonging to the present, or to 
the near future. As a fact, we know (Mark ix. 39) 
that His name was used with success to expel the 
evil spirits by men who were not among His fol- 
lowers ; this, with something of a similar kind 
related in the Acts (xix. 3), justifies the conclusion 
that, before and after the Ascension of Our Lord, 
many strange and preternatural things, of which 
no record remains, were done through the invocation 
of His name by exorcists who, in some way, be- 
lieved in Him, yet remained strangers to the great 
truths He had taught, and to the discipline of life He 
had established. These He represents as claiming, 
on the last day, admission to His Kingdom, on the 
ground of having belonged to Him. But He warns 
them that the connection being only external and 
apparent, and the true bond of faith and love having 
been always missing. He will not recognize them as 
having been at any time His. 

This class of men disappeared with the first 
Christian generation, but the warning remains for 
all times. It appeals to all those who are tempted 
to believe that if their work is of a religious charac- 
ter, success in any one direction is enough to win 
the divine favor. The number of such is great 
outside the Catholic Church, — philanthropists, re- 
formers, preachers of total abstinence, of Sabbath 
observance, and the like ; nor are they wanting 
among Catholics. Priests even, doing active sue 
cessful work, are liable to fall into that manner of 



166 •Bail^ Ubougbts 

self-delusion. The world judges them, as it judges 
men generally, by results ; and too easily they 
accept its judgment. In the excitement of their 
work and in the contemplation of it when done, 
they are apt to lose sight of God and of their souls. 
The praises of men blind them to their spiritual 
destitution. ^^ I know thy works^'^^ says Our Lord in 
the Apocalypse, " that thou hast the name of being 
alive ^ and thou art dead P'' Dead, alas ! to piety, 
dead to prayer, dead to the whole life and spirit of 
the Gospel. ^^ Nomen habes quod vivas et mortuus es,^^ 
We live in a country and in a period of restless 
activity, of advertising and being advertised, of ner- 
vous anxiety for results almost at any cost. How 
sad to see priests caught up and carried away 
by the flood, losing the merit of their lives, not to 
say their very souls, while saving others I Like 
those of whom Our Lord speaks, they prophesy 
by the earnestness of their preaching ; they cast out 
devils by the power of the sacraments ; they work 
wonders of material construction and organization ; 
but they are sustained in it all and borne along 
chiefly by natural impulse, by exuberant activity, by 
the spirit of pride, by the desire to be talked of by 
their people and by their fellow priests, by all man- 
ner of human motives worthless in the sight of God. 
Only at the judgment of God — " on that day'' — will 
they know, will the world know, in what depths of 
spiritual poverty they have lived and died. 



H eoot^ TRame 167 



XLII 

A GOOD NAME 

" Sic luccat lux vestra coram hominibus ut videant 
bona opera vr.st7^a et glorificent Patrem vestrum qui 
in ccelis est,'''' 

*' So let your light shine before men that they may 
see your good works ^ and glorify your Father who is 
in heaven,''^ — Matt. v. i6. 



ggaiHAT men should be good in the sight of 
i wi ^^^ ^^ ^^^ enough. Their goodness should 
^^U be apparent to their fellow-men. Thereby 
God is honored. Religion is more respected when 
the most religious people are found to be in all 
their dealings the most estimable men. Again, by 
revealing the goodness that is in them, men help 
each other to be good. From another point of 
view, not only is each one benefited in many ways 
by the good opinion others have of him, but he is 
thereby enabled to benefit them by the correspond- 
ing influence of his judgments and his examples. 
Hence, in their interest as well as in his own, he 
may be led, nay, sometimes obliged, to watch over 
his reputation. This is not necessarily pride or 



168 H)ail^ ZhoiXQ'ots 

vanity ; indeed, it finds its sanction in the inspired 
words of the Wise man ; " Ta^e care of a good?ia7ne — 
cur am habe de bono nomine — for this shall co7itinue with 
thee more than a thousand treasu7'es^ precious and 
great ^^ (Eccl. xH. 15), and is confirmed by the above- 
mentioned words of Our Lord himself. 

But then it will be asked, what becomes of the 
^^ ama nesciri et pro nihilo reputari^^ of the Imitation ? 
What becomes of the lessons of humility taught by 
the Master himself and by the Saints, and so strik- 
ingly emphasized by their examples ? 

The Fathers notice the difficulty and supply the 
answer. The esteem of our fellow-men is at the 
same time a necessity and a peril ; a necessity, for 
without it, at least in a certain degree, we cannot 
hold the position and perform the duties providen- 
tially assigned to us ; a peril, for the good opinion of 
others is the very nutriment upon which vanity 
sustains itself. We have, therefore, to seek for it, 
and at the same time to fear it. Ordinary Christians 
think more of the former ; the Saints think more of 
the latter ; and they are practically right, for^the 
impulses of worldly wisdom and the instinctive 
cravings of the natural man wall not allow his 
legitimate claims to be forgotten ; whereas the needs 
of the soul are easily lost sight of. 

True wisdom, therefore, commands that the good 
opinion of others should be sought for only as 
dangerous things are handled, — through necessity, 
and with care. 



H (3oo5 IRaine 169 

There are things for which a man may be admired 
without any other advantage accruing to him or to 
his admirers. The Christian instinct forbids him to 
cultivate them. There are others which win him 
the necessary esteem of those among whom he Hves. 
He seeks that esteem, and is concerned not to lose 
it, but only in the measure in which it is necessary 
or serviceable for other worthy ends. He restrains 
the natural satisfaction he finds in it, because he 
fears it may lead him away from the strict line of 
duty. In a word, the good opinion of others is to 
him a means to be cultivated, so long as it is help- 
ful ; but to be dropped as worthless and dangerous, 
when it can be won and held only at the cost of 
faithfulness to God. 

In the writings and in the life of St. Paul, v/e find 
this conception strikingly illustrated. He is anxious 
that his children should win the approval of those 
among whom they lived. " Whatsoever things are 
true,^^ he writes to the Philippians (iv. 8), " whatso- 
ever just ^ whatsoever lovely^ whatsoever of good fame ^ 
think on these things ; " that is, strive for and practise 
them. " Let your modesty be known to all men^ It 
was the rule he laid down to others and to himself. 
" We forecast what may be good, not only before God, 
but also before men^ — 2 CoR. viii. 21. On more 
than one occasion he reminds those he had won to 
the faith of his perfect disinterestedness. He deals 
with the alms entrusted to his care in such a v/ay as 
to preclude all possibility of suspicion. In the 



170 Baili^ Zbo\XQht3 

second Epistle to the Corinthians, he enters into an 
elaborate defence of himself, and enumerates at 
length his endless labors and sujfferings, and even 
the special favors he had received from heaven. 
But he does it for the purpose of retaining an 
influence over them necessary for their good, and he 
does it with visible reluctance. " / /lave become 
foolish,^^ he says, in thus recalling his privileges. 
" You have compelled me, ^'' 

But when it is question of mere human qualities, 
however much appreciated by the Corinthians, he 
readily disclaims them, and makes himself the least 
of all. "7^r myself I will glory in nothing but in my 
infirmities I '^'^ In reality he is little concerned, so 
far as regards himself, about what they think of 
him, and he tells them so: ^^ To me it is a very small 
thing to be judged by you, or by man's day " (i.e., by 
any other human judgment). '^ He that judgeth me is 
the Lordy He reckons with public opinion so long 
as it conflicts with no higher law. But if it lead 
away in any measure from the will of God, he utterly 
ignores it. Such was the case in regard to the 
Galatians; he had to choose between displeasing 
them and maintaining the liberty of the Gospel, 
'''Do I seek to please men,^^ he writes. '^ If I yet 
pleased men, I should not be the servant of Christ?'' 
Welcome or unwelcome, '•'by honor or dishonor, by 
evil report and good report,^'' he is resolved to deliver 
his message as he received it. '''-As we were ap- 
proved, even so we speak; not as pleasing men^ but God 



H Ooo^ IFlame i7i 

w/io proveth our hearts. Neither have we used, at 
any time, the speech of flattery^ as you know^ nor sought 
we the glory of men^ neither of you nor of other s.^^ — 
I Thess. i. 4. 

Such is also the rule of the pastor of souls. For 
reputation in itself he cares little ; but he needs the 
respect, the confidence, and the affection of the 
faithful. All these dispositions he has to cultivate, 
not by any unworthy artifice, or by assuming any 
quality with which he is not gifted; not by ^^ speech 
of flattery f"" not by any sacrifice of principle, but by 
a faithful performance of his duties, by unvarying 
disinterestedness and sincere love of his people. 
But he has to see to it that nothing shall estrange 
their hearts from him; and if misunderstandings 
arise at any time, he owes it to them as well as to 
himself, that, like St. Paul, he shall labor to set him- 
self right ^''uot only before God, but before all men.''' 



^^ Duce res sunt necessarice, conscientia etfama. Con- 
scientia nostra sufficit nob is, propter alios fama necessaria 
est, Conscientia tibi, fama proximo tuo. Qui fidens 
conscientice suce negligit famam suam, crude lis est i7t 
proximum.''^ — Aug., Sermo I. de Vita Clericorum, 



172 Bails Xlbouabts 



XLIII 

TEACHING BY EXAMPLE 

^^ Imitator es mei estate sicut et ego ChristiP 
^^ Be ye followers (imitators^ /jLLfx-nrai) of me as I also 
am of Christ,^'' — i Cor. xi. i. 



ORE than once St. Paul invites the faith- 
ful to look to him, and learn from his man- 
ner of life what they should be. Already, 
in an earlier part of this very Epistle (iv. i6), he 
lays down the same law. He repeats it to the Phi- 
lippians (iii. 17): '^ Be followers of me (\y. 9). The 
things you have leariied and seeji in me^ these do ye^^'* 
and twice to the Thessalonians, (i Tliess. i. 6 ; 2 
Thess. iii. 7), extending the principle in both cases 
to the companions of his apostolate, Sylvanus and 
Timothy. *' You yourselves know how you ought to 
imitate us,^^ He thus shows that they too, because 
of their office, were set up before the faithful, that 
from their lives as well as from their lessons all 
might learn what they should be. 

Conversely, when St. Paul addresses the teachers 
themselves, he reminds them that they have to set 



xreacbiuG bg Example its 

the example of what they teach. " Be thou an ex- 
ample of the faithful''' he writes to Timothy (i Tim. 
iv. 12), ^^in word^ in conversation (i.e. in conduct), 
in charity^ in faith ^ in chastity ^ And to Titus (ii. 
7), ^^ In all things show thyself an example of good 
works r St. Peter in turn gives similar instructions 
to the "- ancients ^'^ or presbyters (i Peter v. 2). 
^^ Feed the flock of God . . . not lording it . . . but 
being made a patter7ty 

In this, indeed, they were only carrying out the 
plan of Our Lord himself, who had so clearly told 
them in the Sermon on the Mount, that they were 
to be the light of the world chiefly by their ex- 
amples. " You are the light of the world ; so let your 
light shine before men^ that they may see your good 
works ^ a?id glo?'ify your Father who is in heaven P It 
was the method He had followed in dealing with 
them, for He had gathered them around Him, not 
only to listen to His words, but also to witness His 
actions, and to learn from his life the life they should 
follow. " / have given you an example,''^ He says, 
after washing the disciples' feet, " that as I have 
done to you, so you do also,'^ 

Here, then, we have a law, a method clearly laid 
dow^n, and to be followed through all ages. Christ 
is the model of the priest ; the priest has to be the 
model of the people. His example is as much a 
part of his ministry as preaching, or administering 
the sacraments. If we could imagine a priest in 
charge of souls appearing only at the altar, or in 



1T4 Bails Ubougbts 

the pulpit, or in the confessional, and then with- 
drawing himself completely from the view of the 
faithful, we should have to call him back to live 
among his people, in order to let them see the full 
meaning of a practical Christian life. This is so 
much the mind of the Church, that in conferring 
each one of the orders, she is careful to impress on 
those she consecrates the special duty of good ex- 
ample. The " ostiarius " is told to open the hearts 
of the faithful to God, and close them against the 
evil one ^^ by word afid by example;'''' the acolyte 
is reminded that the lighted taper he bears is a 
symbol of the shining examples he is bound to show 
forth; and so on up to the priest, to whom, at every 
step of his solemn consecration, the great fact is 
recalled, that henceforth he has to be the embodi- 
ment of all the Christian virtues, a fragrant odor 
of the Gospel, a living rule for the faithful. 

The law thus laid down to priests in their prepa- 
ration, the church has in the course of ages kept 
steadily before them by the numberless rules, regu- 
lations, decrees of her bishops, her popes, and her 
councils. There is nothing she seems to have had 
more at heart than to keep her priests at such a 
height as that all may look to their lives for guid- 
ance. What a glorious vocation, and what a power- 
ful incentive to a beautiful life I 



" Nihil est quod alios magis ad pietatem et Dei cul- 
turn assidue instruat quam eorum vita et exampla 



Ueacbfng bp JEiample 175 

qui se divino ministerio dedicarunt. Cum eni7n a rebus 
sceculi in altiorem sublati locum conspiciantur^ i7i eos 
tanquam in speculu7n reliqui oculos co7ijiciunt ex iis quae 
sumant quod imite7iticr, Quapropter sic om7zino decet 
clericos vitam moresque suos om7us componere^ ut hahiiu^ 
gestu^ i7icessu, sermo7ie^ aliisque omnibus rebus 7iihil 
nisi grave fnoderatum ac religione ple7tum prce se 
ferant" — Con. Trid., Sess, xxiv, ci. 



176 2)atl^ UbouQbts 




XLIV 

SPIRITUAL SWEETNESS 

" Ma7ie nohiscum quoniam advesperascit et inclinata 
est jam dies^ 

" Stay with us because it is towards evenings and the 
day is now far spe7it,'''' — Luke xxiv. 29. 

HERE are few incidents in the Gospel nar- 
rative more beautiful and touching than 
that of the disciples of Emmaus. In the 
vivid picture of St. Luke, we see them as they wend 
their way to the village of Emmaus, dejected in 
looks and in heart, discussing the particulars of the 
dread tragedy they had just witnessed. They had 
been faithful followers of Our Lord ; they had been 
won, like so many more, by the beauty of His teach- 
ings, and by His wonderful works. They had 
believed He was about to accomplish the great 
things that had been promised to their people. But 
all their hopes had been dashed to the ground by 
the happenings of the last few days. Jesus, from 
whom they had expected so much, had been arrested 
by the public authorities, tried, condemned, and put 



Spiritual Sweetness 177 

to a cruel and ignominious death. True, a ray of 
reviving hope had dawned upon them that morning 
with the reports of the holy women ; but it failed to 
dispel the sadness of their souls ; and so they went 
their way depressed and desponding. It is then 
that the Lord approaches unrecognized, enters into 
their thoughts, enlightens their minds, warms their 
hearts, yields to their entreaties, and finally disap- 
pears, leaving behind Him the divine odor of His 
presence, with the peace which He alone can give. 

Besides the picture we have here of all there is of 
tenderness and love in the heart of the risen Saviour, 
we find a striking illustration of His habitual deal- 
ings with His children through all ages. 

The soul, in its relations with God, has usually its 
alternating periods of brightness and of darkness ; 
times of dryness and seeming insensibility, of hope- 
fulness and of fear ; times of unction and heavenly 
joy. They vary with each individual in power and 
duration, and form some of the most potent helps 
or hindrances of the spiritual life. There are souls 
that live almost constantly in the light; they carry 
v/ithin them a strong sense of the unseen world. 
Heaven, hell, God's grace, and God's love are almost 
as real to them as the visible objects that surround 
them. The thought of Christ, of what He is to them, 
and will be through all time, is an abiding, an inex- 
haustible source of joy. There is in them a youthful- 
ness, a hopefulness, a buoyancy of spirits that makes 
light of hardship, and carries them through tempta- 
tion almost without an effort. 



178 Daili? Ubouabts 

This is the condition of spiritual consolation and 
sweetness which the author of the Imitation so 
loves to dwell upon. *' Veriiet ad te Christus ostendens 
tibi consolationem suam . . . Frequens illi visitatio 
cum homine interno^ dulcis sermocinatio, grata consolatio^ 
multa pax ^ familiar itas stupenda nimis^^ ("Lib. ii. c. i). 
And again (Cap. 8) : " Quando Jesus adest, totum 
honum est, nee quidquam difficile videtur ; Si Jesus 
tantum verbum loquitur magna consolatio sentitur,'^^ 

But to feel thus uninterruptedly the presence and 
love of Christ in the soul is the privilege of very- 
few. There are those to whom it is at all times 
denied ; and yet, though weighed down by the 
cross, they go through life valiantly with little to 
sustain them beyond the sense of duty, and of 
loyalty to God. But v/ith the great majority of 
souls aspiring to a higher life, there is a succes- 
sion of opposite moods : of hope and of fear, of 
courage and of weakness, of success and of failure, 
of joyful turning to God and to His service, and of 
coldness and distaste for the practices of devotion. 

This latter condition is full not only of sadness, 
but of danger. It weakens the hold of the soul 
on the realities of faith; it destroys the sense of 
Christ's abiding presence ; it divests His law of its 
beauty and commanding power ; it begets a condi- 
tion of discouragement and despondency, which 
leads in turn to neglect, and, it may be, to the total 
abandonment of the service of God. 

It is then that Christ, in his pity and love, reveals 



Spiritual Sweetness 179 

Himself afresh to the souls thus tried. He ap- 
proaches them, hiding Himself under the ordinary 
operations of their natural powers. He mingles His 
thoughts with theirs ; He brings back the light by 
which they see things once more under their true 
aspects, and in their true colors. He fills their 
hearts, and makes them feel the normal warmth and 
flow of life within them. Great is their happiness 
once again, and gladly would they make it abiding. 
They beg that it may be so. ''^ Mane nohiscum^ 
Domme,^ But this cannot be. It is enough that 
they should have recovered strength to pursue their 
journey. They know now what to think of the 
temptations which assailed them, of the darkness 
which momentarily surrounded them. They must 
start afresh on the strength of that memory. The 
occasional flashes of the revolving coast-lights suffice 
to guide the mariner. Complete happiness, in perfect 
goodness, is the condition of heaven, not of earth. 
Here below we have to fight and to win victories. 
To serve God in the midst of ever-present consola- 
tions would imply little sacrifice and little merit. 
"•It is not hard,^' says the Imitation, " /^ despise all 
human consolations whe7i we have divine. But it is 
much, and very much, to be able to forego all comfo?'t, 
both human and divined And therefore it is, that 
God reserves such trials for his Saints, and tempers 
for ordinary souls their habitual poverty and weak- 
ness by occasional glimpses of Himself, such as He 
vouchsafed to the disciples of Emmaus. 



180 2)aii^ xrbougbts 

" Therefore^ when God gives spiritual consolatioft, 
receive it with thanksgiving ; but know that it is God^s 
free gift^ and ?to merit of thine. Be not lifted up^ he 
not overjoyed^ 7ior vainly presume^ but rather be 
the more humble for this gift ^ more cautious too, and 
fearful in all thy actions, for that hour will pass away, 
and temptation follow, 

" When consolation shall be taken away from thee 
do not prese?itly despair, but with humility afid patience 
await the heavenly visitation . . . Even a?nong the 
great Sai^tts there has often been this kind of vicissitude ^ 
— Imit. ii. 9.4. 



Spiritual Influence i8i 




XLV 

SPIRITUAL INFLUENCE 

"7^ omnibus teipsum pr(Kbe exemplum honorum 
operum,^'' 

" In all things show thyself an example of good 
worksT — Tit. ii. 7. 

HE priest influences the people religiously 
by every act of his ministry, — by preach- 
ing, by administering the sacraments, at 
the altar, in the confessional, at the bedside of the 
sick and the dying. But his action is not confined 
to the performance of such duties. Besides the 
official influence of the priest, there is the personal 
influence of the man, — his power of attraction, of 
persuasion, the gift of winning people gently to what 
is highest and best. Into this kind of action the 
whole man enters, — the tone of his mind, his aspi- 
rations, his ideals, his whole manner and bearing. 
Who has not found himself lifted up by contact with 
persons of a higher nature ? Who has not felt all 
that was petty or mean or unworthy in him hide 
itself and disappear in presence of those more ex- 



Dafli? Xlbouabts 



alted types of nature and grace ? The great art 
critic, Winckelmann, was wont to say that in pres- 
ence of the famous statue of Apollo Belvedere, he 
felt himself assume instinctively a noble attitude. 
Example, indeed, is the most effective of all means 
of influence. It is the deepest, the most abiding. 
Example teaches, exhorts, rebukes ; it does all that 
Vv^ords can do, and does it better : " Longum est iter 
per prcecepta^ efficax et breve per exempla . . . Verba 
movent^ exempla trahunt,'^^ 

The influence of example makes itself often felt 
in isolated actions of an extraordinary character, 
which strike the imagination, and fix their indelible 
impress on the memory — noble deeds revealing 
noble souls. But its happiest effects proceed from 
the even tenor of a beautiful life, as observed in 
its everyday features. Exhibitions of conventional, 
professional piety, wherever detected, are positively 
repulsive ; the simple, unostentatious virtue of the 
true priest brings edification to all. He is a living 
sermon, teaching all day long, by simple contact, the 
virtues not only of the Christian, but also of the 
man ; for even in the humbler, yet necessary quali- 
ties of the natural life, he feels it due to his char- 
acter that he should strive to be equal to the best, 
— upright, honorable, reliable, generous, — and thus 
be a pattern to his people in all things. Instead of 
making himself like them, he knows that they want 
to be like him, and would have him in all th^'^q^s, 
such as they may look up to and admire. And so 



Spiritual ITnfluence 183 

he watches and strives, weeding out of himself all 
that is low or weak or unworthy, and cultivating 
what is noblest and best, according to the injunction 
of the apostle to the Philippians (iv. 8) : " For the 
rest, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever modest, 
whatsoever just, whatsoever holy, whatsoever lovely^ 
whatsoever of good fame, if there be any virtue, any 
praise of discipline, think on these things^ Thus fash- 
ioned he goes forth and mingles with his people, — 
visibly impressed with the importance of his ofBce, 
finding no time and having no heart for anything 
else ; accessible, kind, and helpful to all ; not speak- 
ing of holy and heavenly things to each one, yet 
leaving behind him, wherever he goes, something 
of God and of heaven. 



" Sit doctrina et exemplar vitce tucB speculum vitce 
quod omnibus proponitur ad imitandum^ velut archety- 
pus et primitiva qucedam imago, omina in se habens 
quce bona et honesta sunt^^ — S. Chrysost., Sacer- 
dotio. 



y.- 



184 2)aili5 UbouQbts 



XLVI 

SCANDAL 

" V(B mundo a scaiidalis, Vcd homini illi per quern 
scandalum venit,^^ 

" Wo to the IV or Id because of scandals. . . . Wo to 
that man by whom scandal cometh^ — Matt, xviii. 7. 



Hi^^^lO man can live in society without influen- 
R^^r ^^^§ those among whom he Uves. What he 
iBMifiiia l says and what he does is teUing, all day 
long, in a variety of ways known and unknown, for 
good or for evil, upon those who hear his words and 
witness his actions. 

This is especially true of the priest. He is set 
up on high, and lives in sight of the people. He is 
an object of curious interest for them in all the 
particulars of his daily life. He is observed ; he is 
listened to ; much more of him is known than he 
imagines, — more of his utterances, of his habits, of 
the character of his thoughts and aspirations ; so 
that, without being distinctly conscious of it, he may 
be very helpful or very harmful to those around him. 

In the latter case the solemn warning of Our 



Scanbal 185 



Lord applies to him with special emphasis : " Wo 
to that man by who7n scandal Cometh^ It may come 
in many ways and in various degrees. It may, like 
the sin of the sons of Heli, be such as to keep the 
faithful from the house of God, or from the practices 
of Christian piety: ^^ Erat peccattwi filiorum Heli 
grande nimis coram Domi?to, quia retrahebant ho- 
mines a sacrificio Domini " — i Reg. ii. 17; or it 
may shock and surprise them as something out of 
keeping with the sacerdotal character, and thereby 
diminish their trust in the Church and their respect 
for the priesthood ; or again, it may be such as to 
disappoint them, and destroy their higher Christian 
ideals, as frequently happens when they find a 
priest very much like themselves, — in some things, 
perhaps, not so good. For if a priest differs from 
the layman only by his sacred character and his 
official duties ; if, in the ordinary course of life, he 
is just as eager as other men in the pursuit of place 
or emolument, or as hard and grasping, or as sensi- 
tive in his pride, as resentful and unforgiving, or as 
particular about his ease and comfort, — how can the 
Christian conception of life keep its hold on those 
who naturally look to him for a practical illustration 
of it? 

Still more is his influence harmful to those who 
live in closer contact with him, and in whose pres- 
ence he throws off all artificial restraint, — personal 
friends, relatives, domestic servants, fellow priests. 
What an amount of real harm may be done to all 



186 Bailp trbougbts 

these by the easy-going, tepid, worldly priest ! What 
a powerful though silent and insensible encourage- 
ment to them to settle down on a low, comfortable 
level, amid the tangible realities of the present ! How 
many young priests, alas ! have thus learned to 
discard salutary restraints, to neglect the blessed de- 
votions of earlier years to waste their time on use- 
less objects, to pamper the flesh, — in a word, to 
despoil their lives of all supernatural beauty I 



" Sunt homines qui putant sibi in bene vivendo suffi- 
cere conscientiam^ et non valde curant quid de illis 
aliter existimetur^ ignorantes quia cum homo viderit 
hominem bonce conscientice negligentius viventem^ cedi- 
ficatur non ad ea quce perscrutatur^ sed ad ea quce 
suspicatur : neque enim potest intrare in conscientiam 
tuam, quam videt Deus, Conscientia tua coram Deo 
est ; conversatio tua coram fratre tuo, si de te ille 
aliquid mali suspica?is^ perturbatus cedificatur ad ali- 
quid faciendum^ quod te putat facere^ du7n sic vivis ; 
quid prosit^ quia venter conscientix tuce hausit aquam 
puram^ et ille de tua negligentia conversationem bibit 
turbatam ? '* — S. Aug. (Inter dubia) i. 9. c. 9. 



IFbealSt false an& Urue 187 



XLVII 

IDEALS, FALSE AND TRUE 

" JVisi abundaverit justitia vestra plus quam Scriha- 
rum et Pharisceorum^ non intrabitis in regnum ccelo- 
rumP 

" Unless your justice abound more than that of the 
Scribes and Pharisees^ you shall not enter into the 
kingdom of heaveftP — Matt. v. 20. 

j[T all times men have had ideals of goodness 
which they looked up to and admired, and 
which the best among them have had the 
ambition to imitate. The popular ideal of the Jews 
when Christ came, was represented by the Pharisees, 
— men orthodox in faith, correct in life, ardent in 
the love of country, strict in the observance of the 
Law. Such men could not fail to win influence and 
popularity; and they enjoyed both in a high degree. 
The people who gathered round Our Saviour on 
the Mount did not conceive of any form of life 
higher or better than what they had hitherto looked 
up to in their accredited teachers ; yet He tells them 
plainly that their qualities were entirely insufficient 
to secure admittance into His kingdom. What a 




188 2>all5 ZboiXQbtB 

shock it must have been to them to hear this for 
the first time ! But if they will only wait, the divine 
Teacher will show them how incomplete, and in 
most cases how hollow, were the lives they so ad- 
mired. 

From the facts of the Gospel narrative, and still 
more from the unsparing denunciations of Our Lord 
himself (Matt, xxiii. 13, and foil., Luke xvi. 39, and 
foil.), we may easily gather what were the short- 
comings and vices of the Pharisees. Their ^'/or- 
malism^^'' first of all, — their exaggerated concern 
for externals, for the minutiae of the law, — united 
with a practical disregard for its fundamental prin- 
ciples. Next, " their pride " and self-importance, 
revealing itself at every step, and leading to hard- 
ness of heart, and contempt for others. Finally, 
*^ their ostentation " and constant display of whatever 
in their lives and actions could win them the admira- 
tion of the people. 

The Gospel is the opposite of all this. It leads 
men back to fundamental things, to the indestruc- 
tible principles of justice and of love. It teaches 
them to act righteously for righteousness' sake, to 
look to God for approval, not to man. It keeps 
their weaknesses before them, humbles them, and 
makes them think more of others than of them- 
selves. In a word, the Christian type is the exact 
opposite of that of the Pharisee, and something 
incomparably nobler and higher, even in the most 
unpretending of those who follow it. 



liDeals, jfalse an5 XTrue i89 

Indeed, the Pharisaic type, in its crude, unmitigated 
form, has become unbearable to the modern mind, 
fashioned by Christian traditions. But because it 
is, after all, true to man's natural instincts, it has not 
entirely disappeared from the world. Something of 
it may be found even in the life of a priest. He 
may be good, faithful, zealous ; yet, at the same 
time, self-important, exacting, sedulous in cultivat- 
ing public opinion, eager for praise. His composed 
demeanor and his devotional practices may conceal 
even from himself much that is mean and selfish. 
In his concern for minor objects, he may ^'neglect 
the weightier things of the law : judgme7it^ and mercy ^ 
and faith ; " and while " dea7isi?ig the outside of the 
dish,^^ overlook the impurities it may contain. 

A priest, too, may select and follow false ideals; 
nor is the thing at all uncommon Thus he may not 
fully believe in the purely Christian virtues, — such 
as humility, gentleness, self-denial — or in the 
special requirements of*the priestly character. He 
may not even believe in the higher forms of natural 
virtue, all based on self-sacrifice. His ideal may be 
practically that of the popular priest, the successful 
priest ; that is, successful in doing external work, or 
in reaching positions of honor or emolument. His 
principal ambition may be to secure what will 
lighten, and lengthen, and sweeten existence — just 
like any man of the world. And yet, " unless his 
justice abound more than that " of those men to whom 
he looks up with envy, he is unfit for the work of the 



190 2)aU^ ZbowQhts 

priesthood; and, if he has assumed its responsi- 
bilities and fails to bear them, he is unfit for it/ie 
kingdom of heaven. 

The truth is, the ideal of the priesthood is not an 
open question at all. What sort of man a priest 
ought to be, what is implied in his sacred character, 
what he is really pledged to by the reception of 
orders, is determined almost as precisely as the 
doctrines of faith, and has varied as little in the 
course of Christian ages. It can be gathered from 
the Gospel ; it is found in St. Paul ; it is spread out 
in the pages of the Fathers, in the enactments of 
councils, in the teachings of the Saints ; and every- 
where it is visibly and unmistakably the same. 



Ube mnfaitbful Sbepber& i9i 



XLVIII 

THE UNFAITHFUL SHEPHERD 

EZECHIEL XXxiv. I-IO. 




[[A^ the word of the Lord came to me^ say- 
ing : Sofi of man prophesy^ concerning the 
^shepherds of Israel ; prophesy^ and say to the 

shepherds : 

" Thus saith the Lord God ; Woe to the shepherds 

of Israel that fed themselves ; should not the flocks be 

fed by the shepherd 1 

" You ate the milk, and you clothed yourselves with 

the wool, and you killed that which was fat ; but my 

flock you did not feed, 

" The weak you have not strengthened, 
" And that which was sick you have not healed : 
" That which was broken you have not bound up, 
" And that which was driven away you have net 

brought again; fieither have you sought that which 

was lost, 

" But you ruled over them with rigor and with a 

high hand, 

^^ And 7ny sheep were scattered, because there was 

no shepherd ; and they became the prey of all the beasts 



192 Bails UbouQbts 

of the field. My flocks we^-e scattered o?i the face of the 
earthy and there was none that sought them, 
^' There was none^ I say^ that sought them. 
" Therefore^ ye shepherds^ hear the wo?'d of the Lord, 
" Behold I myself come upon the shepherds. I will 
require my flock at their hand ; and I will cause them 
to cease from feeding the flock any more. Neither shall 
the shepherds feed themselves any more^ and I will 
deliver my flock from their mouthy and it shall no more 
be meat for them" 



XTbe Mvim ©uest 193 




XLIX 

THE DIVINE GUEST 

^^ In propria venit et sui eum non receperufit^ 
" He came to His own and His own received Him 
noty — John i. ii. 

IJHE world since Christ came presents two 
aspects, — one bright and hopeful, the other 
dark and disheartening. On the one hand, 
it is no longer the same. By His life and teachings, 
Christ lighted up its gloomiest spots, and changed 
its desert wastes into smiling gardens. He brought 
w^ith Him, and left behind Him for all ages, treasures 
of peace, of hope, of joy, of strength and courage, 
in which countless millions of Christian souls have 
more or less abundantly shared and continue to 
share. To Christ and to His Gospel, human society 
owes what has served most to lift it up and to 
beautify it, — its highest principles and ideals, its 
purest and noblest types of manhood and woman- 
hood. 

But there is the reverse of the medal, — the little 
use the world has made of the Gospel, compared 



194 S)aili? UbouQbts 

with what v/as meant and what might have been 
expected. The more one considers this, the sadder 
the sight and the more striking the truth of the 
beloved Apostle's sorrowful statement : '^ He carne 
unto His own and His own received Hiin noiT 

1 . The whole world, first of all, was His own ; 
because He was God, and because as God man. He 
had received it from His Father. " Omnia tradita 
sunt a Patre meo (Matt. xi. 27). He came, then, 
" to His own^^^ to all men. His purpose was to lead 
them all to the truth, to win them all to the service 
of His Heavenly Father. His message went forth 
to all the races and peoples of the earth : " Going 
therefore^ teach all nations!''' Yet how strangely- 
impervious whole races have so far proved to the 
divine appeal, — Hindus, Buddhists, Mahomedans, 
— forming a large majority of mankind ! What a 
saddening spectacle to contemplate in such an 
incalculable number of immortal souls, " seated^ un- 
illumined in the shadow of death I In propria venit 
et sui eum non receperunt^ 

2. The Jews were His people in a special man- 
ner. To them He was promised ; by them he was 
expected; yet when He came. He was so utterly 
unlike what they looked for, that, notwithstanding 
the undeniable signs which He gave them of His 
true character, they refused to recognize Him. The 
people distrusted Him ; and those in power perse- 
cuted Him through His public life, and finally put 
Him ignominiously to death. In them principally 



XTbe 2)i\>fne 6uest 195 

was verified the saying of St. John, " He came to 
His own and His own received Him fioty 

3. But, though depriving the world of His visible 
presence when He ascended into heaven. He left it 
not entirely. To His disciples, on the eve of His 
death, He promised repeatedly (John xiv,), that He 
would come back for them and take them to His 
heavenly mansion. Meanwhile, he gave them the 
assurance that He would come and dwell with His 
Father in all those who would be true to Him : 
" Ad eum faciemus etmansionem apud eumfaciemusP 
This invisible yet ever so real ^^ comiiig^'' of Christ 
"/(? His own,''^ is presented in the Apocalypse (iii. 
20), under a beautiful picture borrowed from the 
Canticle of Canticles — ^'Behold,^^ says our Lord, 
" / stand at the door and knock. If any man shall 
hear my voice and open to me the door, I will come in 
to him and will sup with him and he with me^ 

Here is Christ coming back to each one, not as 
a conqueror entering a vanquished city, but as a 
visitor humbly asking permission to enter. He 
knocks. He makes Himself known ; but He enters 
only if willingly admitted. Then He makes Him- 
self at home, shares the proffered hospitality ; but 
at the same time. He pays it back a hundredfold. 
" I will sup with him, and he with me." This is the 
intimacy described by the Imitation (1. ii. c. i.) : 
" Frequens illi visitatio eum homine interno, dulcis ser- 
mocinatio, grata consolatio, multa pax, familiaritas 
stupenda nimis^ It is in that sense that it has been 



196 S)ail^ Ubougbts 

said : '* Christus semper venitJ^ He is ever coming 
back, ever knocking, how often, alas ! in vain. He 
comes to the sinner calHng him to repentance ; to 
the weak and worldly, inviting them to be strong 
and to aim at better things ; to the self-indvJgent, 
warning them to take the strait way, and make for 
the narrow gate through which alone they can secure 
admittance to life everlasting. But the gentle appeal 
is lost most of the time in the din of worldly sounds, 
or stifled by the discordant voices of human pas- 
sions. " He ca?ne to His own^ and His own received 
Him noty 

Yet there are some — there are many — (though 
few when compared to the others) who listen, who 
open to and welcome the Divine Visitor. Such 
were the Saints. Oh, how readily, how joyfully, how 
generously, they received Him ! And how rich in 
return was their reward 1 The same is true of num- 
berless souls at the present, — watchful, recollected, 
ever alive and obedient to the promptings of grace. 
It is in these faithful souls that Christ finds a com- 
pensation for the hardness of sinners and the apathy 
of the lukewarm. 

For such a compensation he looks, first of all, to 
His priests whom He has placed so near to him- 
self, and to whom He comes each day in so real 
and wonderful a way in the Eucharistic mystery. 
There indeed He is always received bodily ; but 
surely it is not the lips alone that should be opened 
to Him ; it is the whole soul, — every power, every 



Ube Mvinc Qncst 197 

faculty, of the inner man, — thought, memory, fancy, 
feeUng, the inmost depths of the heart, and tlie 
whole energy of the will. 



^'' De plenitudine ejus nos omnes accepimus ; ipse fons 
est et radix bonorum omnium ; ipse vita, ipse lux, ipse 
Veritas, non solum in seipso bonorum divitias continens, 
sed in universos diffundens^ — Chrys., in Joan, 



198 Bails Ubouabts 



DETACHMENT 

" Ecce nos reliquimus omnia etsecuti sumus te^ 
^'Behold, we have left all things and have followed 
theeP — Matt. xix. 27. 




READINESS to leave everything for 
Christ's sake is the duty of all those who 
claim to be His followers. He has to be 
the first in their thoughts and in their lives. Every 
human affection, however legitimate, and however 
deep, must be held in subservience to His love. 
" He that loveth father or mother more than me is not 
worthy of me ; and he that loi^eth son or daughter more 
than me is not worthy of me,^'' — Matt. x. 37. 

In ordinary circumstances Our Lord requires 
little more. In St. Luke indeed (xiv. 33), he seems 
to demand an actual separation. " Everyone of you 
who doth not reiiounce all that he possesses cannot be my 
disciple ; " yet we know that in reality He leaves His 
children in the pursuit and in the enjoyment of the 
same objects as appeal to other men, but always 
on condition that they be ready to give up whatever 



2>etacbment 199 



may interfere with the service they owe Him. They 
may be often engrossed with the things of this 
world, but not so as to forget their allegiance to Him, 
and to His law. They are not in reality, nor do 
they claim to be, independent and free. They are 
the servants of Christ, they are His soldiers, ever 
holding themselves in readiness to drop what engages 
them in order to carry out His commands. This is 
Christian detachment; not, as is sometimes imagined, 
a setting aside of all earthly ambition or human 
affection, but a freedom concerning them which 
permits one to sacrifice them each and all, when 
desirable, for a higher good. Excessive attachment 
enslaves the will; detachment tempers without 
destroying the natural affections, or counterpoises 
them by the expansion of the higher aspirations. In 
either case it looses the bond and sets free. 

But there are special vocations which imply much 
more. Those whose lives are given up exclusively to 
the service of God, of their country, of their fellow- 
men, have to relinquish many things which others 
continue to enjoy. The soldier in time of war, the 
physician in the midst of an epidemic, have to give 
up for the time being, home, family, necessary com- 
forts. The religious, bound by his vows, detaches 
himself practically from much that he might other- 
wise enjoy. This is effective detachment, — ?, real 
separation from what appeals strongly to the senses 
or to the affections. As a spiritual practice, it 
serves to counteract the more dangerous tendencies 



200 2)aii^ Ubougbts 

of nature, it being often easier to deny them abso- 
lutely than to keep them within proper bounds. 

In what manner and in what measure should de- 
tachment be found in the heart and life of a priest ? 
The answer comes in the words of St. Peter: ''- Be- 
hold we have left all things and have followed Thee^ 
When Christ called His apostles, without hesitation 
or delay they left everj^thing and followed Him. 
Of Peter and Andrew we read that " immediately 
leaving their nets they followed Him ; '* . . . and of 
James and John, that ^^ leaving their father^ Zebedee^ 
with the hired men^ they folloived Him ^ — Mark i. i8. 
Of St. Matthew we are told that when Christ was 
passing by, " He saw him sitting at the receipt of 
custom^ and He saith to him : Follow me. A^id rising 
up he followed HimP — Mark ii. 14. 

That was the end of their worldly prospects. From 
that on they clung to the Saviour, and thought of 
nothing else. When first He sent them to prepare 
the way for Him, He directed them " to take nothing 
on their journey^ neither staffs nor scrips nor breads nor 
money r — Luke ix. 3 ; and when their mission had 
been completed by the gift of the Spirit, they went 
forth in the same condition, free and fearless, owning 
nothing, concerned about nothing beyond their food 
and raiment : " Having food and wherewith to be 
covered^ with these we are content ^ — i Tim. vi. 8. Here 
we have the ideal type of the priestly vocation. Re- 
sponding to the divine call, the chosen one abandons 



Detacbment 201 



all worldly interests, pursuits, and prospects. He 
belongs henceforth to his work and to nothing else. 
To those who would lead him back to what he has 
abandoned, he answers in the words of Our Lord 
Himself. '^ Did you not know that I must be about 
my Father's business ? " For that great end he sets 
aside what he had hitherto most enjoyed, the sweets, 
it may be, of family life, or the society of friends, or 
his favorite intellectual pursuits, or the cultivation 
of some special gifts. What he may henceforth 
enjoy of such things is only what comes to him as 
an accident, or what he allows himself as a necessary 
relaxation, or what assumes the character of a 
positive duty. 

The more fully he enters into the spirit of his call- 
ing, the more completely he weans himself from what 
might interfere with it. Friends and family find 
themselves gradually neglected and forsaken ; not 
that he loves them less, but that he distrusts 
himself, and fears lest his love for them may 
lessen his devotion to the work of God. Thus we 
read of St. Francis Xavier, that when preparing to 
start for India, he declined to visit his home, 
although passing close by. He feared it might 
weaken the strength of his resolve. 

The very objects that are dearest to one thus dis- 
posed, and are on that account most of an obstacle 
in his way, lead not only to apparent coldness and 
indifference, but to a seeming positive dislike. They 
are disliked because they interfere with what he has 



202 Daili? Ubougbts 

most at heart, as children when they thoughtlessly 
interfere with the serious occupations of their par- 
ents. This is what Christ meant when setting forth 
what he required of those who would pledge them- 
selves to serve Him with fullest devotion, He actually 
spoke of turning love into hatred ; " If any man 
come to me and hate not his father^ and mother^ and wife ^ 
and children^ and brethren^ and sisters y yea and his own 
life alsOi he cannot be my discipleP — Luke xiv. 26. 



^^ Multum deseruit qui voluntatem habendi dereii- 
quit.^^ — St. Bernard. 



m 18 1899 



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